


The Loneliness I Pride Myself On

by the_duck_bride



Category: the GazettE
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Both consenting though, Comedy, Fluff, High School, Kind of uderage, M/M, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-13 21:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 18
Words: 85,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5718061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_duck_bride/pseuds/the_duck_bride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Takanori’s small hands glided over the pearly keys of the large ebony piano as beautiful tranquil notes drifted out of the instrument and filled the small practice room, seeming to paint the bleak white walls with their dark melody. Moments like these were some of his favourites. Moments when he was alone, free from the constricting rules of society and especially his high school, away from the masses of clones surrounding him. He despised those who conformed. Even loathed them with an intense passion; those who never truly accepted who they were and chose to play along with societies rules and what it deemed to be “right”. When he played the piano, Takanori felt as though he was finally free from the ridicule of others; the “normal” ones.  And with another year and a half of hel- school left, he was certainly not looking forward to the rest of his time in the most conformist place he’d ever find himself situated in.

 

No, he wasn’t like them. He would never be like them; he never wanted to be. He had accepted who he was, accepted that he was different and he didn’t let that scare him. Nor did he let society pressure or intimidate him into becoming just like everybody else. He had not a care in the world if that meant that he had to be alone, he didn’t need friends and he figured that the only one he could really trust was himself. He would rather be alone than be like everyone else. Those droning lifeless clones, all a useless copy of each other.

 

Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others. One of these lucky individuals he was able to tolerate was a boy his age called Shiroyama Yuu, though the lanky raven haired boy preferred to be called Aoi for God-knows what reason. Takanori didn’t care enough to ask or bother to find out. Aoi was one of the few who was able to somewhat accept himself and, for that, he’d gained a small amount of the little blond’s respect. His respect was something that was incredibly difficult to acquire as it was not something he gave away to every passer-by.

 

Letting the last few notes of the song ring out, Takanori finally opened his eyes to stare straight ahead of him. Obnoxiously, the sound of the bell informed him that it was time to return to a shattered reality and face the last classes of the day, and undoubtedly his least favourite few.

 

Standing, he pushed the piano stool back in and slung his large black hand bag, containing his seldom used school book, a few pens and his favourite composer’s notebook, over his shoulder. Hand resting on the cold metallic door handle to the peaceful practice room, an exasperated sigh left the little blond’s plush, glossy lips as he finally pushed open the soundproof piece of wood to enter the bustling hallway.

 

People rushed around him, either eager to get to their next class or fearful that they would earn themselves a lovely trip to the detention room if they were so much as a fraction of a second late. However, Takanori had no care for this, so he continued down the clone-plagued hallway at his own leisurely pace. A handful of clones shot him looks of disdain as they passed, but it was nothing he wasn’t used to. He had, after all, been labelled as the school’s resident “weirdo”. His mop of shoulder length blond hair, petite form, eyes blackened by eye shadow and lips smothered in a thin layer of shiny lip gloss gave him an overall feminine look and the fact that he did not try to hide his true nature apparently gave the rest of society a reason to cast him out and label him as unworthy of anyone’s precious time. All because he was different.

 

Takanori feared no one’s opinion. He gave up on fear a long time ago when he realized that, no matter how much he feared what people thought and how much he begged them stop, they wouldn’t. And so he just let himself form a heart of steel with an extra layer of titanium plates for reinforcement. He was impenetrable.  Thick-skinned. Unreachable.

 

As he neared his classroom he veered off to the left quickly and exited through the emergency exit, stepping out into the small landing just outside. Another presence was already there and Takanori was about turn and retreat before the other had even noticed him when he realized that it was only Aoi. The taller raven haired boy leaned against the steel railing of the landing with a cigarette clenched between his fore and middle finger, a pensive look adorning his soft features. His plush lips pursed as he narrowed his eyes at nothing in particular. He hadn’t even noticed Takanori’s small presence step out into the landing.

 

Clicking the door shut behind him, the small blond stepped up beside Aoi and leaned against the cold barrier; the chilly November wind swirled around them and crept under Takanori’s school jumper, raising goosebumps on his arms. The pensive raven didn’t need to look to his left to know who was beside him.

 

“Matsumoto,” he greeted in his ever-calm voice. The petite music student had never heard the raven beside him raise his voice above a calm, soothing level. He always seemed to have his emotions in check and Takanori supposed that he was somewhat envious of this appealing ability. Despite his small stature the blond had some difficulties controlling his fiery temper and more often than not it got the better of him, spewing out like scolding hot lava as a volcano erupted. 

 

Takanori let out a low grunt in reply as he glanced to the boy beside him. Aoi was the kind of person who, when you looked at them, you could never tell what they were thinking. He always wore the same facial expression. Calm. Tranquil. At peace. Usually it was ridiculously easy for the little blond musician to read people, the human race were like an open book to him. All except the mysterious raven; and he suppose that’s why he somewhat enjoyed his company. That and he was the only other person in the school who he felt was close to being as outcasted as he was. The taller boy’s features were feminine, like Takanori’s and he also wore a small amount of makeup around his midnight black eyes. Takanori supposed that they had a few things in common because of this.

 

Reaching into the pocket of his black school trousers Aoi pulled out a half empty packet of cigarettes and flipped open the top, offering one to the blond boy beside him. With a grateful nod Takanori retrieved one of the cancer sticks and held it between his lips as he began to pat his pockets in search of his lighter. Aoi seemed to notice this, still without even needing to look, and delved his hand back into his pocket, a moment later pulling out his own lighter. Flicking the top open and clicking the device to life he held his arm out so the flame danced just underneath the end of the cigarette between Takanori’s lips. Casting a quick glance to the raven, who was still looking out over the bland Tokyo scenery, the music student leaned forward slightly and inhaled as the tip of his smoke touched the flame, thus bringing the cancerous object to life, its tip glowing red.

 

Smoke curled out from between Takanori’s plump lips and made intricate little patterns in the chilly air in front of him as he did the same as Aoi and looked out over the buildings of Tokyo. He’d never really liked the big city. The blond boy was much more of a country person as opposed to a city person. Sometimes he would travel to see his grandmother who lived a few hours out of Tokyo by train, but that he become an increasingly rare occurrence as he grew older. Bland, was what Takanori thought of when he saw Tokyo. Boring. Mere shades of black, grey and white. No colour, nothing. Even the people were boring. It was difficult to find someone worth talking to in such a dull place. Useless conformists.

 

Aoi’s smooth voice brought him out of his resentful thoughts. “Maths?” The raven was referring to Takanori’s next class.

 

“Mm,” he nodded, the tone of his voice giving away his already obvious annoyance.

 

It wasn’t often that the pair shared any conversation of great length. To be honest, Takanori knew very little about the boy beside him apart from the fact that they shared similar experiences with people. It was more of a mutual understanding of each other that they had. Silence was always comfortable for them, probably more comfortable than long conversations. Aoi was a man of so few words, but he was highly observant and he seemed to understand what was going through the blond’s mind without needing to utter so much as a word. Most people had never actually had the pleasure of hearing Aoi talk as he rarely spoke to anyone but the blond music student, so, in a way, Takanori felt slightly privileged.

 

With a glance to his right Takanori saw that Aoi was absentmindedly tugging on the small black ring that adorned his lower lip. This meant the raven was thinking deep and he was probably a little troubled over something, this small detail was one of the few things Takanori had managed to pick up about Aoi. Whenever he was troubled over something he would fiddle with is lip piercing.

 

“Spill,” Takanori commented in his mildly gruff voice. Smoking cigarette was obviously doing no good for is vocal chords. He knew that Aoi would tell him at least something about what was going on in that complicated mind of his.

 

“He’s ignoring me again.” Takanori smiled slightly when he was able to coax more than one or two words out of the taller. It always seemed like an achievement to him as so few could actually do this. The raven wasn’t guarded or secretive like Takanori was, he was just quiet.

 

“Know why?” He inquired as he took another drag from his cigarette, letting the toxic smoke fill up his lungs in a short breath of bliss.

 

“No,” the raven shook his head, dropping his finished smoke to the ground, crushing it under the heel of his black leather shoe.

 

“Want me to find out?”

 

“No.”

 

Takashima Kouyou was the honey blond boy in their grade Aoi was interested in. Takanori knew that sometimes they would meet, but he didn’t know much else. Aoi never really shared much about their meetings, he only expressed that nothing really happened between them. Usually they just went out to eat or see a movie, like any two people would for a date. Though he imagined that might be little difficult seeing how little Aoi actually spoke. But he guessed Kouyou probably made up for the both of them in that department. The little blond wasn’t fond of the taller one. He was too lively, too chatty. He much preferred the company of the reserved raven. Despite how little he knew about their “dates”, Takanori did know that Kouyou would often ignore the raven for weeks on end for no particular reason. Or maybe there was and Aoi just never told him. Either way, he didn’t really care enough to press the issue. Though Takanori could tell that Aoi was very much into the lively blond because every time his name was brought up the reserved boy would get a soft glimmer in his black orbs and he would speak just that little bit more than usual. But it was totally beyond Takanori how anyone could fall for someone so irritatingly chatty. He was sure he would have wrung his neck if he was forced to be around him for more than ten minutes.

 

Slowly the raven pushed himself off the railing just as Takanori was finishing his cigarette. Doing the same as Aoi and crushing the butt under his shoe, he watched as the taller boy turned to look at him for the first time since he’d stepped out the door. Without words being spoken the smaller nodded his head, understanding that it was time to finally head back into class.

 

Reluctantly he pulled the door open and waited for Aoi to follow him in before he made a slow beeline for his maths class. No doubt the teacher would scold him for being so late and probably try to give him detention. As if he would go though.

 

Stopping outside the sliding door to his classroom Takanori spun and looked up at Aoi who had also stopped, standing about a metre away from the petit blond.

 

“Good luck with Takashima,” the music student commented. After receiving a nod from the raven as a reply the taller boy continued down the hallway to his own respective classroom.

 

Sighing, Takanori hoisted his bag further up onto his shoulder and pulled open the door. Stepping in and closing it behind him he looked up and saw the entire class staring at him, not really surprised that he’d shown up late. Much to his teacher’s annoyance, she also knew he was always late and rarely bothered to try and discipline him. It would appear she’d given up on the small boy a long time ago.

 

Although, this time it seemed she had a bone to pick with the rule breaking blond. “Matsumoto Takanori,” she croaked in her old voice as she pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. “Why are you late?”

 

He frowned at her; she never asked him why he was late. With a shrug of his narrow shoulders he said, “I was in no rush to get here.”

 

This comment seemed to anger his teacher even more. “I’ve had just about enough of you. You come late every day and disrupt my class’s learning.”

 

Raising his thin, shapely eyebrows in disbelief he released a small scoff. “Does it really look like I care?”

 

Steam looked like it was about to explode out of the old woman’s ears as her face started to turn red. She’d quite clearly had enough of Takanori’s unexplainable tardiness. “Lucky for you, Matsumoto-kun, I’m holding detention here for the third year students straight after this class. So you won’t be leaving. Now take your seat before I have you expelled!”

 

Curling a lip in disgust he huffed as he trudged through the rows of desks to his seat in the far left corner of the room. He made sure to drag his chair across the ground and drop his bag noisily onto his desk as he plopped his small body down into it. A few students turned to face him and when they did he made sure to shoot them menacing glares that quickly made them turn their attention back to the front of the room.

 

Pulling out his beloved composer’s notebook he turned to one of his most recent songs, reading over the half-finished lyrics. He wasn’t sure how to finish the song when he first started writing it so he’d moved on to compose the piano part for it. Later he figured he’d put together a guitar, bass and drum part. But the half-finished lyrics on the page stared up at him as he tried to push idea out onto the page, but to no avail. Perhaps he’d come up with something in detention.

 

 

The final droning bell for the day sounded and all of the clones around him began packing up their belongings in preparation of the departing for the day. A few of them turned to glance at Takanori over their shoulders and snicker at the boy who was forced to stay behind and face detention with the third years. The blond cursed his bad luck, he’d had plans to return to the small practice room in order to perfect the piano melody he’d come up with.

I was a good ten or fifteen minutes before the third year students started to file into the room. His maths teacher eyeing him the entire time to make sure he didn’t try to slip out while he back was turned. He huffed impatiently as the third years strolled in at a leisurely pace, not seeming to care that the sooner they served their detention the sooner they would be out of that godforsaken room. A few of them shot curious glanced at the small blond slouched in the chair at the back of the room, knowing fully well who he was, but other than those few stares he received very minimal attention.

 

Not really interested in what was happening around him, he returned to the now almost completed song lyrics. He’d managed to get a bulk of them done during his maths class and was happy with the results so far. The little blond had started writing songs a few years ago and he was steadily increasing in his natural ability for words. His lyrics usually had a dark connotation to them, they generally explored issues that were more often than not swept under the rug and ignored. If he ever released any of his songs he wanted to lyrics to be able to make people think. He didn’t want them to be just words over music. He wanted them to have meaning.

 

Finishing the last line Takanori sat back with an approving sigh as he lifted the book to read over his work:

 

_Hello my dear, kill me gently._

_A burned body doesn’t leave you._

_If you grieve that you can’t save me, then you saw death itself in me, didn’t you?_

_Should I not take your pained breathing as an act?_

_My trembling won’t stop in the onslaught of “creaking noise”_

_I want to be shielded from the pain my brain continues grasping_

_Die for me…, you can’t save it_

_Is it wrong? Try to answer me_

_That there are no lies in the tears you shed_

_From those eyes so unfocused_

_My hand…, eyes…, mind…, and breath._

_In the end what stays is a grossly burnt and corrupted record and_

_The ruins that couldn’t save a child_

_The shape of a deranging subject—from hatred and in terror I scream_

_In love detached, why must even this body rot away_

_Inside redly laughing darkness, with your every breath uttered_

_The words of non-salvation look a lot like that “hatred”_

_My trembling won’t stop in the onslaught of “creaking noise”_

_I want to be shielded from the pain my brain continues grasping_

_Hello my dear, kill me gently._

_A burned body doesn’t leave you._

_May my prayers reach into the deep, and to those ears that will know my first cry and screams_

_Somehow, somehow, I sink as though your bleary eyes will not see me_

_Deeply… so that you never again have to touch this body_

_And you laugh even in those distorted memories_

_Forget me…, you can’t save it._

_Is it wrong? Try to answer me_

_That the tears you shed from those unfocused eyes are all lies_

_My hand…, eyes…, mind…, and breath._

_What’s left at the very end is a grossly burnt and corrupted recollection and_

_The cradle that couldn’t love a child_

 

Suddenly his book was snatched away from under his nose and a deep baritone voice cut into his mind. “You’re in my seat,” it announced.

 

Takanori snapped his head up and his hazel tinted eyes came into contact with an all too familiar pair of dark orbs. Nose wrinkling in what one might call a snarl, Takanori glared daggers at the third year student standing above him. This boy was one of the ones he despised the most. The embodiment of a pure conformist clone.

 

Suzuki Akira.

 

Akira was the captain of the soccer team. An all-round sports star “hotty” that was admired by the boys and desired by all the girls. Of course, he always had his little posse who followed him around, agreeing with his every word. Brainless clones of a brainless clone. Typical. Akira was the type who like to pick on the ones he deemed to be weird or different. An all-round arsehole. The worst type of clone.

 

Him and Takanori butted heads often and it usually resulted in the smaller leaving with a number of bruises. Although, Akira didn’t leave totally unscathed either, the little blond could usually land one or two good punches. But, being a sporting star, Akira was naturally fitter and stronger than the musician and that gave the tall blond a distinct advantage.

 

The older blond was one of the only other people at the school who had bleached blond hair, however that made him no less of a conformist. For some unknown reason the third year boy wore a thin band of material over his nose, though Takanori couldn’t care less about what the clone wore on his face. All he really cared about was retrieving what he been stolen from him.

 

“Give it back, arsehole,” he growled. Despite his feminine looks, the little blond had quite the nasty temper.

 

Turning the book to be able to read it, Akira began scanning over the lyrics. “This is some pretty dark shit. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, you’re pretty fucked up, shortarse.” 

 

Takanori stood up and lunged forwards, aiming to grab the book out of the unsuspecting blond’s hands. However it would appear the he was suspecting and, as Takanori leapt towards him, he veered to the left and laughed as the little blond ran into the desk next to his own. Rubbing the spot on his leg the corner of the table had hit he turned back and glowered at the one who was still reading through his book.  A few of the clone’s friends watched in in amusement, egging the elder blond on, thoroughly enjoying their afternoon entertainment.

 

“Oi, I said give it back!” The little one demanded. “Unless you want me to pummel in that ugly face of your.”

 

Suddenly the room fell silent. Eerily silent. No one even dared to breathe after the small blond’s comment. However he seemed to be completely oblivious to what he’d done because he continued to glare at the larger form in front of him.

 

Slowly, Akira lowered the black book and looked menacingly at the little blond. “What did you just say?”

 

Takanori tilted his nose up defiantly, still not comprehending the full damage of what he’d done. “You heard me… Ugly.” He made sure to articulate every syllable of the last word.

 

The third year student’s jaw clenched and he let out an unamused huff. He strolled towards the music student until his chest almost bumped against the little one’s forehead. Rolling his neck from side to side he cracked the joints, more out of habit than to be intimidating, and looked down at Takanori who was still staring up at him defiantly. This little brat was really going to get it now.

 

Slamming the notebook down onto the desk the other had been sitting at, Akira took at fistful of Takanori’s cleanly pressed school shirt. Without any warning the tall blond dragged a squirming Takanori out of the classroom, completely ignoring the teacher’s protests, and into the now deserted hallway.

 

Forcefully throwing the short blond forward, he met the hard ground with an audible thud. It was then that he realised he must have struck a nerve with the older blond and instantly regretted it. Though, because of his pride he refused to apologize to the arsehole whose spiked blond hair largely resembled that of a yellow cockatiel.

 

Takanori managed to scramble to his feet just as Akira took hold of his shirt again and crushed his small body against the wall, succeeding in knocking the air out of his lungs. Anger flashed in the tall blond’s eyes as he stared down at the ever defiant music student.

 

“For someone so small you really have a big mouth, you know that, midget?” Akira spat at the second year boy who didn’t even flinch at the threatening tone of his deep voice.

 

Takanori huffed, “You’re not one to be throwing insults around, birdbrain.”

 

“… What?” Akira’s well-trimmed eyebrows came together in a confused frown. Takanori rolled his eyes; of course the thick headed blond wouldn’t get the reference he was making. The thick-headed soccer player probably wasn’t smart enough to make the connection.

 

“Your hair, dip fuck,” the little blond pointed out. “It looks like one of those ridiculous birds.”

 

Akira growled and pressed the smaller boy harder against the wall, feeling his little body compress under the weight. “Do you have a death wish or something, pipsqueak?”

 

Takanori’s dry, humourless laugh only infuriated the older blond even more. “And so what if I do?” The music student spat back in his face, earning a confused look for a fraction of a second before it hardened again.

 

“So now you’re a suicidal fag freak,” Akira growled. “How pathetic.”

 

Takanori had to try hard not to flinch at the use of the harsh words. Those words held so much more meaning to them than the dumb blond pinning him against the wall knew. But Takanori patched up the small cracks that had formed in his defences before the other boy even noticed they were there.

 

“Oh, yeah? Then, hit me,” Takanori said and then added, “I dare you… Ugly.” Of course Takanori was trying to provoke him. He wanted to see if cockatiel-boy would actually hit him or if he was all squawk and no bite.

 

Akira raised his spare hand that was clenched tightly in a fist and levelled it near the small blond’s face, ready to pound his pretty features in. But the lack of fear in the small boy’s eyes made the elder stop short. This is what Takanori wanted. He was testing Akira and the elder knew it, suddenly figured it out.

 

Begrudgingly, he lowered his fist and let go of the younger boy’s now crumpled shirt.

 

Takanori glared up at him before walking back into the classroom, leaving him standing in the hallway. The rest of the students in the detention room seemed surprised to see the small musician come back with his face fully intact and he ignored the relentless stares as he packed up his belongings, slinging his bag over his shoulder. Disregarding the protests of his teacher, Takanori exited the classroom to find birdbrain still standing in the same place he’d left him.

 

Takanori glowered for a moment before saying, “Now who’s pathetic?” Uttering over his shoulder as he left, “You should’ve hit me.”

 

At the last words that left the little blond’s mouth Akira turned around to watch the retreating figure as it rounded the corner. He wanted to be hit? That’s what he wanted the entire time? But why? Questions ran laps through Akira’s mind. Perhaps there was more to the quirky little blond than first meets the eye.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.

Viciously slamming the soundproof door of the familiar small practice room shut, Takanori let out an almost animalistic growl. ‘ _How dare he?! That arsehole!_ ’ The condescending look that bastard gave Takanori irked him more than anything else ever had. ‘ _That utterly patronizing son of a bitch!_ ’ What gave him the right to look down on the little blond?  What gave him - a useless clone - the right to treat Takanori like he was some delicate little being that could simply be let off the hook? 

 

The stupid birdbrained blond had never had a problem hitting Takanori before even beating him senseless sometimes, if properly provoked. So what was the difference today? Was it because he had asked to be hit? That meant Akira took _pity_ on him. Takanori _hated_ pity. It was a disgusting thing that was used as a way to look down on others and treat them as weaklings. At least, that’s what it was in the blond music student’s mind.

 

Venomous thoughts raged through the blond topped head of the small second year student. Flinging his bag across the room, spilling its’ few contents all over the soft carpeted floor, Takanori let out a loud frustrated scream. A feeling of freedom washed over him; he knew that the magnificently soundproof walls of the small practice room would shield his outburst from everyone. In that moment he hated the obnoxious third year more than he ever had. Loathed him with an intense burning passion that seeped into his veins, running through them and heating his blood to the point where he thought he might explode.

 

Takanori felt like he ought to put his fist through the thinly plastered wall, though he decided against it as that would lead to more trouble than it was worth. Parents to be called. Bills to be paid. Scolding to endure. Instead he kicked over the piano stool, letting out a snarl through his tightly clenched teeth. Tipping over a stand displaying scores of musical notes the paper fluttered to ground at the seething blond’s feet. Reaching up he gripped his stylized blond hair so tight he thought he might pull the delicate strands out of his scalp. 

 

Akira’s harsh words ricocheted inside his skull. Taunting him. Mocking him. Biting ruthlessly through that hard titanium casing around his heart. That idiotic third year had no idea. Not a fucking clue how deeply his words had actually affected Takanori. 

 

_Suicidal…_

 

No…

 

_Fag…_

 

Stop it…

 

_Freak…_

 

“Shut up!” Takanori screamed aloud this time. He beat his small fists rather harshly against the sides of his head in a vain attempt to knock the voice of that blond moron out of his mind. The idiot had no idea what he was saying, no idea what he was really doing to the raging little blond. No idea.

 

Taking in shaky breaths, the little blond firecracker tried to calm himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw, feeling as though his teeth might crack under the immense pressure he was applying to them. “Calm down, Takanori,” he spoke to himself in a hushed whisper. “He did it on purpose; he knew it’d piss you off. This is what the bastard wants. Calm down.” Takanori’s raging thoughts seemed to ease a little as he spoke to himself, convincing himself that he needed to take breath and relax. Thankfully he was in his safe place, the little practice room. _His_ practice room. Those all-encompassing white walls offered him so much comfort. The furniture was always willing to accept his vicious attacks and the walls were always willing to listen to his screams and the abusive comments he spewed, all without complaint.

 

And, for that, Takanori was grateful.

 

***

 

Akira stood, completely frozen and unable to move, in the centre of the empty hallway. Takanori having left him there speechless as his small figure disappeared around the corner. Had he always enjoyed it when Akira hit him? Why? Was it always what Takanori had wanted?  A deep frown graced the tall blond’s features as he stared in the direction the little second year had left.

 

Truth be told, Akira had felt and overwhelmingly compelling need to go after Takanori since he’d first noticed him. There was an air of mystery about the little one that Akira found utterly inviting and he felt the need to conquer that secretiveness. Akira was somewhat notorious for being able to capture anyone he wanted, man or woman, without the need for much effort at all. Of course, he had his limits. Straight guys didn’t go for him nor did lesbian girls, but the blond had a fairly keen gaydar. So he had no problem in that department. The moment he saw Takanori he just knew it, that little blond was definitely not one to be wooed by women. Akira still remembered their first kind of conversation.

 

_Leaning leisurely against the locker next to the one the small black and red haired first year had delved into, Akira smirked. ‘This one should be easy,’ the cocky second year thought to himself. First years were timid, especially on their first day. Senior high school was a big scary world, far scarier than elementary or middle school. It could be a dangerous place for someone so small and cute. And so Akira took it upon himself to… take the boy under his wing, in his own special way. The cute ones always seemed to fall head over heels as soon as the blond second year payed them even the slightest bit of attention._

_Akira watched as the red and black haired boy rummaged through his messy locker, obviously searching for something. It must’ve been something important because he was completely oblivious to the predator that’d closed in on him. That confident smirk grew into a cocky grin as the blond watched the boy. Kid had a nice arse. Just his type._

_“Hey there,” he purred to the smaller boy who seemed to disappear even further into his cluttered locker. Not receiving a reply Akira cleared his throat and spoke up slightly. Maybe he hadn’t been heard. “Hey.”_

_“Go away,” came the muffled voice from inside the locker. Takanori wasn’t interested in making friends, especially when he recognized that disgusting tone of voice. It was the kind of voice that he hated the most. The tone of voice that screamed ‘I’m a narcissistic arsehole who thinks I can do whatever I want’. No way was Takanori going to put up with that; and on his first day of high school as well. Groaning, he mumbled irately to himself, “Where is it?”_

_A little taken aback by the harshness of the little dark-haired boy’s reply Akira’s brow furrowed. “Excuse me?”_

_“There it is!” Takanori sighed in relief as he bent down and stuffed the black book into his bag. Bringing his head out of his locker and slamming it shut, Takanori looked up at Akira with a hideously fake smile plastered across his face. “You’re excused,” he said with an enthusiastic politeness that was sarcastic and mocking. The little first year’s face dropped into a menacing scowl just before he turned on his heel and began his retreat._

_The blond second year stood in his place for a few seconds, totally dumbfounded as he watched after the first year. Akira couldn’t believe the kid’s nerve. No one spoke to him like that! He was top dog at this school, even though he was only a second year. Jogging after Takanori the taller took hold of his thin wrist, squeezing probably a little too tightly and spun him around, growling in his face, “What the fuck is your problem, kid?”_

_Takanori scowled and twisted his wrist our of Akira’s grip with a rough tug. “Don’t touch me,” his voice dripping with venom. “And don’t call me kid.”_

_Akira raised a trimmed eyebrow, “Oh? And what’re you going to do about it… kid?” The taller boy wanted to test Takanori to see how far the dark-haired boy’s feistiness could really go. Was the first year really willing to defend himself against someone who was significantly stronger and taller? Someone who obviously had the advantage in this situation._

_Takanori growled and if looks could kill Akira would’ve been dead a thousand times over. “Fuck off,” he seethed. “I don’t want anything to do with you or your kind. So do me and yourself a favour and just turn around and walk away.”_

_Akira scrunched his nose under its material band, “My… kind? What the hell are you-?”_

_“Your kind,” Takanori interrupted him. “Conformists. Clones. Mindless fucking followers. I hate it when you people talk to me. You disgust me.” The way the little first year spat the words made Akira flinch ever so slightly. They seemed to be laced with an intense burning hated that made the blond wonder what brought the smaller to say these kinds of things._

_But his pride and irritation overrode that small spark of curiosity. One of his large hands darted out with almost inhuman speed to seize the collar of the first year’s cleanly pressed shirt in a tight fist. Yanking him close, Akira brought them nose to covered nose, a threatening animalist glint in his dark eyes. Just who did this kid think he was?_

_“Now, look here you little brat,” Akira growled through clenched teeth. By this time the students around them_

_had started to notice what was going on between the pair, shooting cautious glances their way. Everyone knew how horrid Akira’s temper could be, no one ever really dared to test him. Yet neither the blond, nor the red and black-haired boy paid them any mind. “You’d better watch your tongue otherwise you may end up losing it. Got that?”_

_Takanori huffed, something that sounded much like a scoff to Akira which definitely didn’t go down well with_

_the fired up blond. Akira raised his clenched fist, smirking as he saw the little dark-haired boy purse his lips, ready to receive the punishment that was headed his way. In the next moment the smaller boy was the one smirking, this caught Akira off guard which was exactly what Takanori wanted. In the small window of time, when that dumb blond was distracted, Takanori swiftly lifted his knee to bring it into contact with the other’s groin._

_The satisfying groan that left Akira’s lips as he released the other’s shirt and crumbled to the ground made the little first year grin mischievously. He knew a hit to the crotch was a low blow, but in that moment Takanori wanted nothing more than to be away from the encroaching presence of the tall blond. Never underestimate Takanori. That boy could play dirty if he felt the need._

_With a curl of his plush lip, Takanori shot a disdainful glare to the figure writhing in pain on the floor and crouched down to his level. “I warned you, arsehole. Stay the hell away from me.” And with that being said Takanori stood up and took his leave, ignoring the befuddled expressions of the people around him._

_After that the unspoken hatred between the pair began, though Akira certainly had no intention whatsoever to leave Takanori the hell alone._

 

A small amount of movement directly to his left pulled the tall blond out of his reminiscing state of mind, he turned his head in search of the source of silent disturbance. The presence was possibly the last one he’d expected to find. ‘This guy’s a friend of his,’ Akira thought. What was his name again? Akira wracked his brain in search of the answer. Achi… Atoi… Ao… i? Aoi! That was it.

 

The quiet raven his friend Kouyou never shut up about. It was always “Aoi this… Aoi that… Oh, and then me and Aoi!...” It honestly got on the third year’s nerves. Akira himself had never uttered so much as a word to the silent second year beside him and he was pretty certain Aoi never really uttered a word to anyone except Kouyou and Takanori. He couldn’t understand why his younger blond friend was so taken by the reserved raven. He didn’t seem particularly interesting, plus it would be near impossible to have an actual conversation with him. Though, despite never having spoken to him, Akira knew that the little blond and the raven were friends. He’d seen the duo smoking together on the metal landing that was meant to serve as an emergency exit should the need for one arise. He was the only person the feisty little blond was nice to, so that must have made him pretty special somehow. But Akira couldn’t even begin to guess why.

 

Aoi stood and stared unblinkingly at Akira for what seemed like forever to the blond.  It wasn’t a threatening or encroaching stare; it had an air of calm to it. It felt like Aoi had something to tell him, and, given his impatient nature, Akira wished the raven would just spit it out already; but he got the feeling that wasn’t going to happen. Eventually he finally grew irritated with the raven’s lingering presence. Furrowing his brow deeper, Akira spoke in his gruff voice, “What are looking you at, kid?”

 

Seeming to ignore Akira’s obvious jab at the younger, the raven’s midnight coloured eyes darted momentarily in the direction Takanori had left in before his meaningful gaze settled back on the blond.  This seemed to mean that he’d witnessed their confrontation. ‘ _Creepy_ ,’ Akira thought to himself as he shifted uneasily on his spot. ‘ _What could Kouyou possibly find so enthralling about this kid?_ ’

 

Glancing back in that same direction again Akira said in a slightly softer yet still as gruff voice, “Is he always like that?” He obviously knew he wasn’t going to pry a verbal answer from the younger, so he didn’t really expect much. Turning his head back the third year saw Aoi’s slim shoulders rise slightly before dropping back down again in a small nonchalant shrug. This kid’s unwillingness to speak was starting to grate at his nerves. ‘ _How could Kouyou stand to be around such an irritatingly quiet person?_ ’ No matter how many times he asked himself these questions he could never seem to find the answer. Maybe the chatty blond was just crazy, plain and simple. “Do you ever talk?” He scowled at the shorter boy irately.

 

His gaze lingered meaningfully on Akira for a moment before Aoi began to make his way in the same direction Takanori had. The tall blond understood that the raven wanted him to follow, and so he did, trailing a few steps behind the boy. Akira wondered where he could possibly be taking him. What could the raven offer him that could be of even mild interest? As they walked Akira’s mind inevitably strayed back to the little blond, to the lyrics written in that precious black book of his. What had they meant? Did they have any specific meaning at all or were they just random words he’d haphazardly scribbled all over the paper? Somehow Akira got there feeling that there was more behind those words than the blond was willing to let one to anyone, even Aoi.

It irked Akira how much more interested he’d become in the little second year in just a matter of minutes. All because of a few words.

 

_Hit me…_

 

No.

 

_I dare you…_

 

I won’t do it.

_You should have hit me…_

 

Why?

 

Akira growled under his breath as he continued to blindly follow Aoi, wherever he was leading him. Why? Akira himself didn’t even know the answer to that. What was wrong with Takanori? That little idiot. ‘ _Obviously he’s beyond fucked up_ ,’ the blond thought to himself. ‘ _Or maybe he just has some weird sadist fetish and he likes to be abused_ ,’ Akira scoffed quietly. Now that’d be something funny. Though, he seemed to believe that that wasn’t the case at all.

 

Suddenly coming to a halt, Akira almost ran into the smaller raven’s thin form. “What the…?” He was about to demand what the younger one’s problem was when he noticed that Aoi wasn’t looking at him. Instead, the dark haired second year was staring dead ahead, into one of the only lit rooms left in the school, which now eerily resembled ghost town with the students having left for the day. Despite Aoi obviously wanting him to, Akira wasn’t sure if he wanted to look because he had a feeling he knew what would be behind the door.

 

It was only when he heard a very faint, muffled scream that he followed Aoi’s example and looked up. From their place standing on the other side of the dim hallway Akira could see through the glass window in the door into the brightly lit practice room. In the middle of it stood the little blond he’d confronted not ten minutes ago. His usually pale face was red, a thin vein on his neck standing out from his intense screaming; screaming so loud it could be heard from outside a soundproof room. The contents of the blond’s black leather bag lay spewed on the floor, indicating that he’d flung it there himself. A small pang of guilt resonated through Akira’s gut as he watched Takanori swing his foot out and kick the piano stool to the other side of the small room and then proceed to knock over a music stand, the paper fluttering down to his feet. Frowning, the third year watched Takanori bring his small hands up to grip his blond hair and screw his eyes shut as he seemed to yell something that looked like ‘shut up’.

 

When Takanori started to bang his small fists against the sides of his head, with what looked like considerable force, Akira decided he’d seen enough. Taking a step forward his hand began to reach out for the handle of the door.

 

“Don’t.”

 

The velvety voice that sounded from behind him stopped Akira dead in his tracks and, slightly wide-eyed; he snapped his head back to look at the source. Aoi still stared straight ahead at his friend, who now appeared to be talking to himself, not bothering to meet the surprised gaze of the startled third year.

 

“Leave him be,” Aoi stated in a voice that was barely above a whisper, continuing to stare at his distressed friend.

 

“How can you be so calm about this?” Akira demanded jabbing his finger in the direction of the door the little blond was enclosed behind. “He’s your friend, isn’t he?” What was this kid’s problem? He sounded like he wasn’t even the slightest bit worried.

 

Aoi nodded once, finally tearing his midnight coloured eyes away from the image of a distressed Takanori to look calming at the almost as equally distressed Akira. “But there’s nothing I can do for him.”

 

Akira scowled at the raven as his mouth hung slightly agape in disbelief. Aoi’s voice didn’t even show a hint of concern, or of being upset. All the blond could hear was clam. Nothing more, nothing less. He felt like he was more concerned than the raven, which Akira found kind of weird. He was positive Aoi’s worries would be far more accepted by the little blond than his own. The other second year was his friend after all.

 

The raven kept starting, as if he expected Akira to do something. The stare wasn’t anything encroaching; in fact it was anything but. However it still managed to get under Akira’s skin and piss him off. Growling, Akira folding his arms over his broad chest, “Why isn’t there anything you can do?”

 

The corner of Aoi’s lip appeared to tug upwards ever so slightly in what one might call a remorseful smile. That’s when Akira understood that Aoi had probably seen more than one of Takanori’s little outbursts and he’d probably tried to help before as well, but the angry little blond had only sent him away. As if reading the tall blond’s thoughts Aoi nodded and said, “Takanori doesn’t want anyone’s help.”

 

With a scowl still etched into his brow and confusion lacing his voice, Akira grumbled, “Then why bring me here? Why show me what he does when he’s like this if no one, not even you, can do anything about it?”

 

Aoi stayed silent. But not to Akira’s surprise, the raven had so little to say that he didn’t really expect the second year to answer all or anyone of his questions. The raven just gave him a knowing look before he turned on his heel and began to make his way down the hall.

 

Akira was incredibly confused to say the absolute least. What the hell just happened? He was fairly sure Aoi had just spoken more to him that he had to Takanori, or even Kouyou, in the last year. So why come to him? Why come to the one who started to problem in search of some kind of solution. Because that’s obviously what Aoi was looking for in Akira. The reserved raven had a way of making you understand exactly what he’s thinking just by the expression in his eyes, though Akira understood that the raven would only let you see what he wanted you to see. And what about Takanori? Did he have this kind of reaction every time the pair butted heads? Akira felt a small pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach. Their seemingly meaningless squabbles obviously had more of an effect on Takanori than Akira had originally thought. But why did he care? Takanori was meant to be someone he hated, the only person who’d ever refused his advances. That’s right, that little blond was –

 

“What the fuck are you doing here!?” An outraged yell came from the only direction the blond third year didn’t want it to. He’d obviously been so deep in his own thoughts he hadn’t noticed the door to the, now ruined, practice room open.

 

‘ _Uh oh,_ ’ Akira thought. ‘ _Busted_.’


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.

Slowly Akira braced himself and turned towards the raging little blond who had picked up the spilled items from the floor and repacked his bag. How long had Akira really been in his own thoughts? With a defined crease in his brow the taller watched as a look of sheer outrage settled itself on Takanori’s face. He didn’t make any attempt to move, he didn’t try to say anything; he simply waited for second year’s inevitable wrath to rain down on him.

 

“I asked you a fucking question, birdbrain!” Takanori’s voice sounded hoarse and broken under that angry tone. ‘Probably from all the screaming,’ Akira’s genius brain figured out. “What the fuck are you doing? Huh? Come to laugh at me, you stupid piece of shit?” The tall blond knew that Takanori could get aggressive, but honestly he’d never seen him this bad before. Something must have really, _really_ gotten to the little blond. Akira couldn’t help but wonder if it was completely his doing or if there were other things mixed into the dangerous concoction of emotions.

 

Akira began to explain, hoping somehow he could calm the little firecracker down, even if it was just a little. He didn’t know why he seemed to care so much in the first place. “No, I’m not here to laugh at you Takanor-”

 

“Bullshit!” The little second year yelled as he clutched his small hands into tight fists, nails digging painfully into the soft skin of his palms. “Bull-fucking-shit, Akira! Of course you’re here to laugh at me, mock me. Why else would you be here?” The short blond took a few long steps – well, long for his little legs anyway – until he stood in front of Akira. Glaring up at that the partially covered face of the other, Takanori put his palms to Akira’s chest and shoved. _Hard_. “That’s _exactly_ why you’re here.”

 

“No, just listen to m-”

 

“ _Listen_ to you?” Takanori let out an unamused humourless laugh that was more like a huff than a laugh, really.  With every word the little blondmphasized he gave Akira’s chest a harsh shove, sending him stumbling back a step. “Why the _fuck_ would I want to listen to _anything_ you have to say?”

 

Akira was quickly losing his patience with the little blond and felt if the other continued with his unrelenting shoves, he would soon snap. “Just stop and hear me-”

 

“You’d better not about to say ‘hear you _out_ ’.” Another shove and another step back. “ _Fuck_ you, Akira!” With one last push, much harder than the others, Akira’s back hit the wall on the opposite side of the hallway to the practice room. Letting out a grunt as his flesh came into rough contact with the wall, Akira didn’t even have time to blink before Takanori had his hands grasping at the collar of Akira’s crumpled white school shirt; pushing him hard against the wall. The smaller boy was clearly not intimidated by the fact that Akira was significantly taller than him.

 

“Come on, fuck head!” Takanori screamed into the third year’s partially covered face. “Aren’t you going to do anything?”

 

Akira felt the corner of his eye twitch. He was pissed off, yeah. But he was determined not to give the little blond what he seemed to desire so intensely. Akira wondered how he’d never noticed this about Takanori before. This rage. This desire for violence.  Had it been there all along? Or had it only just begun to surface with Akira’s refusal to engage in their usual fist fights? He couldn’t help but wonder what really went on inside the little blond topped head. Though, in that current frame of time he wasn’t in any position to ask.

 

The tall blond glowered at Takanori before he scoffed. “I’m not going to hit you, midget-”

 

“Why the fuck not? What’s so different about today? Are you turning soft Suzuki?” Takanori sneered at the third year in front of him, trying to provoke him as much as possible. He wanted to see Akira snap; although, it was completely unbeknownst to him exactly why this was. It was just an inexplicable urge he felt.

 

Akira snarled and finally felt his efforts to keep his cool failing him. He was sick of being cut off; Takanori wasn’t even listening to a single word he was trying to say. “Will you stop fucking interrupting me and listen, you little shit!” Takanori looked slightly taken aback and Akira used the open opportunity to continue talking before the little blond could interrupt him yet again. “I didn’t _want_ to come here. You’re stupid fucking friend brought me here. He seems to think I’ll have some sort of solution for this shit. Don’t even ask me why he thinks that because I don’t have a fucking clue.”

 

The third year student felt Takanori’s hands somewhat loosen their grip on his shirt as the frown on his delicate features deepened. From confusion no doubt. Akira figured that now the little blond was just as confused as he was.

 

“Aoi?”

 

“No, it was fucking Kouyou,” Akira spat sarcastically with a role of his dark eyes as he gripped Takanori’s thin wrists and yanked downwards, making the smaller boy drop his hold on the tall blond’s collar. Surprisingly Takanori didn’t fight the action, letting his hands fall limply to his sides. “Of course it was Aoi, idiot. What other friends you have?” 

 

Takanori stared up at Akira incredulously, obviously trying to figure out if he was lying. After a few hushed moments the second year student broke the heavy silence. “Why would Aoi bring you here?”

 

Akira gave a nonchalant shrug of his broad shoulders, “Beats the shit out of me. Like I said, he seems to think I have some sort of solution for whatever the fuck _that_ was.” Akira gestured to the still lit practice room behind Takanori, referring to his outburst.

 

The little blond’s lip curled ever so slightly at Akira’s poor choice of vocabulary. “Well there isn’t anything you or anyone else can do, so stay the fuck out of it, Suzuki,” Takanori spat, recovering from his slight shock. What was Aoi thinking? Why would he bring Akira of all people? That idiot. It was the first time Takanori had ever felt any anger towards his reserved raven friend. After a lingering glare, Takanori hitched the handle of his bag further up onto his narrow shoulder and turned, leaving Akira standing in the middle of the deserted hallway more confused than ever.

 

***

 

He sat on the park bench, well after the sun had set, staring straight ahead of him to the abandoned area of plush green grass and children’s playgrounds. Somehow it felt like coming to that same park every night made it easier for him, it made him feel like he hadn’t missed out on what every other child had experienced. It made him feel less isolated. Less outcast. Less abnormal. Because that’s what he’d been all his life, wasn’t it? Different. Not in the sense of looking different and having different interests. But different in the sense that his body wasn’t like others’ and he could never do what other people could.

 

Shiroyama Yuu had been deprived of a normal childhood. His parents always keeping him locked up inside for fear that if he was to go outside and play with the other children he’d end up in the hospital. Being in that place was a regular enough occurrence. Neither Yuu nor his parents wanted to spend any more time there than they absolutely had to.

 

The lanky raven boy felt that he was the bane of his parents’ existence. They claimed to love him; they always told him that he was no different than anyone else. But Yuu always knew the truth. He knew that had to fork out extra money they didn’t have just to keep him somewhat healthy and he often heard them arguing about their financial situation. His mother was forced to pick up a second job and his father had to work overtime almost every day. Yuu had never seen his parents without tired faces and dark circles under their eyes. Even though they tried to out on brave faces around him, Yuu knew they weren’t real and, instead of making him feel better, they only made him feel ten times worse.

 

Yuu never understood when he was a little kid. Never knew why he couldn’t go out and play with the other kids. Never understood why his parents insisted on dragging him to that same sterilized white room every month. He used to sit and cry in his room for hours and hours on end, until he’d exhausted his little body and fallen asleep. The other kids used to tease him because he was so small and skinny. But he was never very hungry and he grew a lot slower than the other kids his age. He was still thinner than average, though he was able gain a fair amount of height. The teachers at school never used to let him play with the other kids either. He had to stay in the classroom by himself. Of course with all the time Yuu had to himself he never really made any friends, and so he never really spoke much. He also had plenty of time to develop that unreadable expression he’d become so famous for. No one ever saw anything he didn’t want them to, which was both a blessing and a curse. By the time he was eleven years old he’d managed to perfect that incredibly composed mask.

 

That was also when he found out…

 

_“Mum,” Yuu looked up at the worn looking woman standing next to his bed, holding his small hand in her own. “What’s wrong with me?”_

_For a little while there was no other sound than the monotonous beep of the machines around him and the hushed voices that passed outside the door to his hospital room. White walls surrounded him; the same white walls he’d seen every month for his entire life. They offered no comfort to him, they never had. However, Yuu had found himself in the bleak room earlier than scheduled this time._

_That day at school the small raven boy had wanted nothing more than to go out and play soccer with the other children. Instead he’d been told to stay in the classroom, like usual. But today, he’d decided he didn’t need to listen to what the teachers told him anymore. And so when his teacher left to fetch something from the staffroom Yuu took his opportunity to leave the classroom as quickly and as quietly as he could. Stepping out into the play area had been a freeing and fulfilling moment for Yuu. He grinned as he made his way over the other children who ran around and kicked a soccer ball. The other’s regarded him curiously when he asked to play, but they really saw no reason why he couldn’t and so they agreed._

_Everything had been going well. Yuu picked up the rules of the game quickly and he smiled and laughed more than he thought he ever had in his eleven short years. He was having so much fun he was able to brush it aside when he felt a tightening in his chest. Only when he started to feel unusually short of breath and weak did he realize that something wasn’t right. The tight feeling became more intense, it felt like his heart was swelling up and pressing against his fragile rib cage. Wheezing, Yuu brought his small hand up and clutched at the front of his shirt. He thought that if he just stayed still for a few minutes he’d start to feel better and then he’d be able to join back into the game that continued around him._

_A few minutes passed and the tight feeling had only worsened. Yuu felt drained and weak. Still struggling to catch his breath, he felt his knees give way underneath him and he toppled to the ground. When he started coughing the children around him noticed something wasn’t quite right. Yuu squeezed his eyes shut at the uncomfortable pressure in his chest and heard someone yell to get the teacher._

_Soon there was presence beside him. His teacher. She sounded panicked as she asked Yuu if he could hear her. It was all he could do to nod; there was no way he could have verbally answered her. A small whimper left his lips as he felt himself becoming weaker and weaker. The sound of distant sirens quickly approaching, the feeling of being loaded into an ambulance and finally arriving at the hospital were all a blur to the little raven._

_His mother arrived not long after he did, in a state of absolute panic. She asked what had happened and the doctor explained that Yuu had been running around and playing soccer with the other students when his heart had become overwhelmed. The old man told her that it was nothing too serious, Yuu just needed to rest._

_“Yuu, darling,” his mother squeezed his hand slightly as she sat down on the bed beside his thin body. “You know you aren’t supposed to be running around. This is why we always kept you inside. It’s dangerous for you to do those kinds of things. What if something worse had happened?” She leaned forward and, with her spare hand, brushed the raven fringe out of his face._

_“You didn’t answer my question,” he said, showing little emotions towards his mother’s caring gesture. “What’s wrong with me?”_

_“Nothing is wrong with you, sweetie,” she cooed._

_Yuu frowned, “That’s not true. If there’s nothing wrong with me I wouldn’t be in here.”_

_“Yuu,” the once beautiful woman whose face was now weary with age and years of hard work shut her eyes and sighed. “Let it go, honey.”_

_“No,” Yuu insisted. “I won’t let it go. I’ve been letting it go for almost twelve years of my life. I want to know what’s going on with me. Why do I have to come to hospital every month? Why can’t I play with the other kids? What’s wrong with me, mum?”_

_The woman heaved another heavy sigh. “If I tell you, you have to promise not to interrupt me or say anything until I’m done. Alright?”_

_Yuu nodded his head, finally happy to be receiving some answers._

_His mother stroked her thumb over the back of his small hand, staring intently at the two clasped appendages. “You have something called Ventricular Septal Defect; we usually just call it VSD. It’s a problem with your heart and the way it pumps blood,” she paused wondering how she could give her almost twelve year old son a simpler version of the heart disease. “Basically, Yuu, there are two sides of your heart that work to get oxygen into your blood. One side holds onto the blood without oxygen in it and pumps it through your lungs into the other side, mixing oxygen in during that process. When the blood with oxygen in it is in the other side of the heart it’s then sent to the rest of your body. Does that make sense?” She wanted to make sure she wasn’t confusing Yuu too much, the human anatomy was such a confusing thing sometimes. Yuu gave her another small nod, indicating that he understood her so far. She nodded her own response and continued on with her explanation, “Well, there’s a thin wall that separates the two sides of the heart and makes sure that the blood **without** oxygen doesn’t mix with the blood **with** oxygen. You’ve got a small hole in that wall, so the two kinds of blood mix together. That just means that your heart has to work extra hard to get the right amount of good blood around your body and that’s why, sometimes, you feel really tired and weak and that’s also why you don’t have much of an appetite. And today you overworked your heart, darling. If you move around too much your heart has to work even harder than it already does. You should never participate in much physical exercise because you could hurt yourself, Yuu. Your heart can’t handle much.”_

_The raven boy sat in silence even after his mother had finished her explanation. So he was right. There **had** always been something wrong with him and that was the reason his parents were always so sad. It was his entire fault. Why couldn’t he just be like other kids? Then both he and his parents would be happy. But Yuu kept that mask on, hiding his true emotions as his mother watched him to see how he would react. _

_After a long while of silence Yuu’s mother’s phone beeped in her pocket, notifying her that she had a message. With a scowl on her face she informed Yuu that she was needed back at work. After leaning over and pressing a kiss to his forehead she told him she’d be back after her shift ended. And then she left, leaving little raven haired son to his own thoughts._

_Yuu had never hated himself more in his entire life. He felt like everything was his fault. It was his fault his parents were unhappy. It was his fault they had little to no money. It was his fault they worried so much. His fault. All Yuu’s fault. He loved both of his parents so much, they’d provided so much for him and he felt like he’d failed them because he was such a useless fragile son. Laying back into the crisp white bed sheets the little raven haired boy let the tears flow out._

_That was the day the disappointing, disgracefully fragile Shiroyama Yuu died and the stronger, more reserved Aoi was brought to life._

Aoi was suddenly brought out of his own encroachingly painful memories when he felt a pair of familiar strong arms wrap around his own thin shoulders and torso from behind. Soft tendrils of hair tickled the side of his face and fell over the nicely tanned arms that were a stark contrast to his own deathly pale complexion. But he supposed that’s what he got for never really going outside, not that he really could. Heaving a deep sigh, the raven leaned his head to the side and lightly rested it against the side of the other boy’s. Letting his eyelids lazily slip shut he breathed in the scent that was so unique to its owner. He smelled like cinnamon, coffee and cigarettes. It was a truly intoxicating smell that Aoi found he could never get enough of.

 

“What’re you doing here so late, Aoi?” Kouyou spoke softly into the other second year’s ear, knowing his deep baritone voice had the power to sooth the raven. “Your parents will be worried about you.”

 

The raven didn’t answer his question. All he did was ‘hmm’ in recognition that the blond boy was there and his presence was appreciated. As for his parents, Aoi knew they were aware of where he was. He wasn’t really the type to keep secrets from his parents, so when they’d asked he’d told them exactly where he was. They didn’t particularly like him being out so late, but there was little they could really do about it.

 

It was true that the blond had been avoiding Aoi lately, though he never told the raven boy why. But it seemed that tonight was the night that Aoi would demand answers. “Kou, why are you like this?” Aoi asked as he reached up to trace his ebony fingertips along the smooth skin of Kouyou’s arm, feeling the taut muscles underneath them flex. “I don’t understand.”

 

The blond sighed, his warm breath brushing against Aoi’s sensitive ear. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’m ok now, I promise.”

 

“You say that every time,” Aoi pointed out. Though he felt annoyed the levelled voice he always had didn’t change and his well-practiced mask didn’t shift.

 

“I know. I’m sorry, Aoi. I really am.” The sincerity in Kouyou’s words was palpable, he really was sorry. “I’ll tell you one day… Just not this day.”

 

Aoi nodded in understanding. He really did understand. There were still things he hadn’t told Kouyou. Like his real name and why he despised it so intensely. No matter how many times that blond boy would ask the reply was always “Maybe another day” and Kouyou accepted that. So Aoi didn’t feel he held the right to question the blond on a subject he was uncomfortable talking about.

 

Since the two second years had known each other they’d shared thoughts and feeling with each other that no one else had seen. No one ever heard Aoi talk as much as Kouyou did and, in turn, no one got to see the sombre, calm Kouyou.

 

People knew Aoi as the silent one, the reserved one. No one heard the raven talk as he made no effort for social situations. His thoughts and emotions remained unheard and unseen. Aoi wasn’t really the secretive type; he just didn’t enjoy extensive conversation unless it was with Kouyou. Of course, there were certain exceptions to his non-secretiveness. He hated to talk about his illness, very few people knew he actually had it and even fewer knew his real name. In fact, he could count all of those people on one hand. The raven was observant, preferring to listen rather than talk. He knew some found his silence irritating; he hadn’t at all missed the expression on Akira’s face earlier in the afternoon when he and Takanori had their confrontation. Though Aoi wasn’t one to care about other’s opinions all that much.

 

On the complete opposite end of the scale to the reserved raven was the always lively Kouyou. Everyone knew the tall blond wore a smile. He was chatty and always had something to say. Some might even call him a social butterfly, though Kouyou wouldn’t enjoy that title sticking. How emasculating. He made far better friends with Akira than Takanori. In his honest opinion, he found the dark aura surrounding the little blond quite intimidating. He didn’t like the way Takanori always looked angry and he’d noticed the distaste the shorter directed towards him. Kouyou couldn’t help but wonder why Aoi was even friends with someone so unbelievably unpleasant. Had the raven no taste? Though Kouyou was perfectly aware that Akira and Aoi didn’t exactly see eye to eye, so he supposed that he may as well just let their friend choices go.

 

However when the two of them were together, they were like two completely different people. Of course, Aoi still had his moments where he would listen while Kouyou would chat away. But the raven would participate far more in conversation and Kouyou would, for once, stop running his mouth and listen. The two spent most of their time outside school together, except for the times when the blond would ignore Aoi though that didn’t happen often. They weren’t officially a couple in terms of anyone and everyone knowing, but they considered themselves something of the sort. Neither of them was really concerned about their title as long as they got to spend their time together. Both thought that people placed too much value in what other people saw them as, their relationship status, what they presented themselves as to the public, so they agreed not to worry about titles.

 

Kouyou turned his head slightly and buried it in Aoi’s long raven locks, inhaling deeply. The quiet second year moved his head slightly away from Kouyou’s allowing the honey blond to place tender kisses on his smooth pale neck. Aoi sighed contently and moved his hand from Kouyou’s arm up to tangle his fingers in those soft blond strands as velvety lips pressed against his skin. The blond kissed his way up Aoi’s neck to the junction between the raven’s earlobe and his jaw. Tracing his way along the jaw’s soft curve Kouyou lifted a hand to lightly grasp Aoi’s chin and turn the raven’s head to face him. Aoi opened his eyes to stare into hazel tinted orbs that held so much affection for him. Returning the loving stare for a few moments the thin raven fluttered his eyes shut again as Kouyou leaned in and sealed his velvety lips over Aoi’s own plush pair. The contact was heavenly. There was no tongue tangling, no mixing of saliva. Just the tender pressure of lips against lips.

 

The magical feeling ended when Kouyou pulled away ever so slightly, only returning a moment later to rest his forehead against Aoi’s. The pair opened their eyes at the same time and they stared at each other. Any hint of sadness, distress, annoyance, anything, was instantly gone. Aoi hummed contently when the blond placed another soft kiss against his cheek.

 

“What do you say we get you home, huh?” Kouyou asked as he pulled his arms back from around Aoi to allow the raven to stand up.

 

Aoi stayed in his place for a few more moments before nodding. He stood up and moved to stand in front of the taller blond. Reaching up, Aoi threaded his arms around Kouyou’s neck and pulled him down for another gentle kiss. The raven felt the blond smile against his lips as he brought his large hands up to cup Aoi’s jaw and brush his thumb over a raised cheekbone.

 

Pulling away again, Kouyou smiled down at the slightly shorter and much skinnier raven. “Let’s go?” Aoi nodded again and detangled his arms from around the blond’s neck. Kouyou gave him a loving peck on the temple as he reached out and took hold of Aoi’s hand, lacing their fingers together as he pulled the smaller raven in the direction of his house.

 

Content smiles crept onto both of the second year’s faces as they made their way towards Aoi’s house. Neither of them had known how unhappy they were until they’d found each other, everything now looking up for the odd pair.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.

The sun had long ago set as Takanori walked along the pathway. Cars passed him; clones making their way home from their boring, mediocre jobs. He often wondered how those people could possibly be happy with their lives. What was so great about dressing in the same grey suit every day to take the exact same route to the exact same office building, only to sit in the exact same chair and do the exact same thing as the day before repeating the whole process over and over again? Nothing was great about it; nothing at all. So why do it? What was the point? It was something Takanori just couldn’t grasp.

 

The little blond second year only lived a few blocks from the school, so it never really took him very long to return home. Though, after his confrontation with Akira at school he’d taken the time to make a small detour to clear his head a bit.

 

The bell above the door chimed as he entered the large well lit music store. On one crimson painted wall a lovely array of acoustic steel-stringed guitars hung from individual hooks. On the wall next to it was where the electric guitars could be found. They had any brand one could be looking for; Ibanez, Gibson, Fender, BC Rich and they came in all kinds of shapes and designs; a truly beautiful collection. On the third wall, either side of the doorway, bass guitars were suspended. Much like the electric guitars the store stocked a number of brilliant brands all with lovely bodies and clean, crisp colours. Takanori would have liked to buy the whole store, and he probably could though he doubted his parents would appreciate that.

 

“Evening Takanori.” A friendly voice from behind the counted horizontal to the fourth wall resounded in the blonds head. Looking at the greying man behind the front desk Takanori let the corners of his glossed lips pull up slightly.

 

“Hey Jiro,” Takanori greeted him, seeing that there was no use in being rude.

 

The owner of the music store, Jiro, was a kind-hearted old man who was probably somewhere in his early to mid-fifties. He was kind, always welcoming Takanori inside with a big smile and a warm greeting. As much as he hated to admit it, Takanori had grown somewhat fond of the old man. Jiro was an observant man, often picking up on Takanori’s moods.

 

After studying the blond boy for a few moments Jiro sighed and leaned his elbows against the glass topped counter, “Rough day, huh?”

 

Takanori huffed as he entered further into the store and ran his fingertips along the fret board of a particularly beautiful white steel-stringed acoustic. The ivory of its curvy body gleamed in the light, the black trim faded out from the sides towards the centre. Plucking the gorgeous instrument off its respective hanger Takanori took a seat of the stool provided for those wanting to test out an instrument and pulled a pick out of the small bowl on the ground. “You could say that,” he said as he began playing a familiar dark melody, letting the notes flow effortlessly as his fingered moved gracefully over the thin neck.

 

“Someone at school giving you a hard time?” Jiro asked. The man smiled at the boy in front of him. ‘ _The kid’s got so much talent,_ ’ he thought to himself.

 

Takanori’s fingering didn’t falter as he glanced up at the old man. “Yeah,” he said before be dropped his eyes back down to his fingers.

 

Jiro hummed in understanding. The music store owner had learned quickly not to push Takanori. He’d never witnessed the little blond’s feisty temper, but he was smart enough to figure out that there was one there. So he never pushed too much, he was always able to tell when Takanori didn’t want to talk about something; which was basically all the time anyway.

 

Closing his slightly wrinkled eyelids, Jiro listened to the beautiful, dark melody produced by the young boy who possessed talent far beyond his years. He’d had the privilege of listening to a few of the songs Takanori worked on, sometimes even hearing the little blond sing, though that was a very rare occurrence. If there was one thing he could tell, it was that Takanori was self-conscious of the lyrics he wrote. This gave Jiro the impression that the words the high school student wrote on paper were very close to his heart and the old man wasn’t willing to push Takanori to explain them; so he just sat back and listened to the pure poetry that was the talented boy’s lyrics.

 

Reopening his eyes, Jiro smiled, evident smile lines creasing the corners of his eyes and lips. “Is that a new one?”

 

“Yeah,” Takanori replied, closing his eyes and letting the melody flow.

 

Jiro nodded. He figured as much. The little blond seemed to have never ending musical inspiration. “Has it got a name?”

 

The notes flowing out of the guitar ceased as Takanori opened his eyes, “I haven’t thought of one.” Hazel tinted orbs looking up at the ceiling as if the answer would be hidden somewhere in the band posters plastered all over the surface.

 

A few moments of silence passed as Takanori searched for an appropriate title for his newest work. The corner of his lips tugged upwards ever so slightly as a perfectly fitting name wriggled its way into his mind. “Burial Applicant.”

 

“Sounds interesting,” Jiro commented, knowing that if he asked what the title meant he wouldn’t get an answer.

 

The corner of the blond’s mouth dropped from it’s almost smile. “I guess.”

 

Dropping the pick back into the little glass bowl, Takanori stood up and paced back to the acoustic guitar wall, carefully placing the white beauty back on its hanger. Letting his fingers graze the surface of its polished body – it really was a gorgeous guitar – the little blond turned on his heal and hitched up his shoulder bag as he made his way towards the exit. The bell chimed as he pulled at the handle.

 

Turning around Takanori bowed slightly to the smiling man behind the counted, “Thanks for having me Jiro.”

 

“Anytime Takanori,” the greying man beamed. “Have a safe trip home. See you next time.”

 

With another shallow bow Takanori left the welcoming atmosphere of the music shop and stepped back out onto the bustling street. People glanced at him as he walked past. Of course they would; his dyed blond hair and made up features always drew attention. Rolling his eyes Takanori continued on his path.

 

The heavy traffic of the main roads died down when he reached his own street. Only the occasional car would pass him by, headlights momentarily lighting a brighter path for him. Takanori lived in the wealthiest part of town; everyone on his street resided in what most people would call a mansion and owned at least two cars. Everyone had cleaning staff and maids and cooks. But such was the lifestyle of the rich. The blond walked past large multi-story houses with brightly lit windows, suggesting that the families residing inside were just sitting down to a lovely home cooked meal.

 

Takanori stopped when he reached the only house of the street that wasn’t lit at all. Keying in the security code the large iron gates opened, allowing him access to the long driveway that lead to his house. The house itself would be quite impressive to someone who had never lived in such a place. The L shaped two story building constructed of grey bricks had large white columns supporting the roof that covered the short walkway to the arched front door. Green grass surrounded the house with white stone statues dotted here and there. Gardens containing bushes and small flower plants surrounded the front part of the house, encased by knee high barriers constructed of the same grey brick as the house itself. The large dwelling was clearly comprised of well over ten rooms, possibly even coming close to twenty. To anyone else the mansion would be spectacular. Though, to Takanori it was the last place he would ever want to be.

 

 Shoes clicking as he stepped onto the front step that lead to the white wooden door, Takanori pulled out his house key, slotting it into its place. The large door opened and the house’s automatic light system triggered, instantly lighting up the large foyer. Shutting and locking the door behind him, Takanori dropped his set of keys into the little glass bowl on the table beside the door. Removing his school blazer he hung it on the empty coat rack on the other side of the door to the table.

 

“Tadaima.” Takanori called out the traditional Japanese greeting as he toed off his shiny leather school shoes. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest when he didn’t receive the typical reply; ‘okaeri’. He never did.

 

Letting out a huff of short bitter laughter Takanori trudged further into the huge house. Lights flicked on as he went, illuminating the whole place in a bright glow. After reaching the top of the large grand staircase at the end of the foyer the little blond took the hallway to the left and then the fourth door on the right; the only occupied bedroom in the house. His.

 

After swinging the mahogany door shut behind him Takanori dumped his school bag on the floor at the base of his king size bed. With an exasperated sigh the second year student flopped back onto his plush mattress, the grey comforter cushioning his fall further. He glanced around his bedroom. Most teenage boys would be ecstatic to have such a great room. It was large with a king size bed, a desk which contained Takanori’s laptop and a few stacks of CDs on it. He’d been provided a large flat screen TV with both an Xbox and a PlayStation and a number of the most popular video games, though he never used them. He barely even turned the TV on unless he felt the need to connect his laptop and put on a movie. In the corner were a few guitars, an electric and a steel string acoustic, and a bass. A doorway on one side of his bed lead to the large walk in closet that contained multiple designer brands. On the other side of the bed was a doorway into Takanori’s own personal ensuite, fully equipped with a shower and a bathtub as well as all of his hair and makeup products. Once again, designer brands.

 

Even though Takanori had everything anyone could want at his little fingertips he wasn’t all that happy about it. His parents were never home, they’d been on constant business trips since he turned twelve and they deemed that he was old enough to look after himself. The little blond was lucky if he saw them even once a year. Though he wasn’t totally worried about that, he never really connected with them in the two years since they’d brought him to live with them. With another sigh he hauled himself up off the bed and shuffled his sock clad feet into the tiled bathroom to ready himself for a shower.

 

Hot beads of water cascaded over Takanori’s pale body. He’d long ago finished washing his hair and so on but he felt that maybe if he stood under the water for longer all the filth from the outside world would eventually wash off. He plopped to the floor of the shower, knees bent at an odd angle he sat with his legs splaying out beside him. Head hung, water continued to run through the sun kissed strands, causing them to fall in front of his face.

 

In his head Takanori ran through the day’s events. What he wasn’t pleased about was the first thought that wriggled into his head was about Akira. That idiot managed to make himself a rather prominent part of the little blond’s everyday life, even though they were in different years and didn’t spend any class time together. Takanori remembered the first day he met Akira. He noticed the tall blond far before the tall blond noticed him. He remembered walking through the front gates of the school on his first day of high school and spotting Akira and a few of his friends sitting on a bench off the side of the main courtyard. Takanori found people just as unpleasant then as he did currently, but he couldn’t help but notice how attractive the elder was. Of course that tiny inkling of interest was killed the moment that idiot opened his big mouth. The little blond definitely still thought Akira was good looking, there was no changing that. Akira was tall and well-shaped. He was lean but still nicely muscled and he had handsome features, but he was a total arse. But in the end, the absolute bottom line was Takanori definitely hated the third year’s guts. There was no one he loathed more than Akira and that’s why it pissed him off so much that, when recounting his day, the birdbrained idiot was the first thing that came to his mind.

 

Exiting the shower, he left the bathroom with one fluffy white towel wrapped around his small waist and one drying his pale blond hair. When he was back in his bedroom he threw on whatever clothes his fingers brushed against, not really caring what he looked like in the confines of his own home. After he decided that his hair was sufficiently dried Takanori discarded his used towels down the chute that dropped into the laundry room.

 

Entering the large extravagant kitchen the little blond pulled opened the double door fridge and looked from shelf to shelf. Nothing. Empty. He dropped his head when he realized that he’d forgotten to go grocery shopping. Growling he slammed the door shut again. It was all that damn cockatiel’s fault; if he hadn’t have butted into Takanori’s day he would actually have food to eat.

 

With a scowl plastered across his currently makeup-less features Takanori snatched one of the menus stuck to the fridge door and swiped the house phone off the counter. Sitting on one of the bar stools the little blond looked down at pizza menu in front of him. Despite what some thought pizza was quite a popular food in Japan, same with a fair few western kinds of food. Deciding on what he wanted he placed the order and gave the details for one of his parent’s many credit cards and he was informed that someone would deliver it in around forty minutes. Walking into the foyer he flipped the switch that would leave the front gates open and moved into one of the lounge rooms the house contained in hope of finding something to entertain himself while he waited.

 

‘ _Stupid bird,_ ’ he thought. ‘ _If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t have this problem_.’

 

Those forty minutes passed excruciatingly slow and soon that forty minutes turned into fifty and then sixty. A little past an hour after Takanori had placed his order the sound of the doorbell rung obnoxiously, informing the little blond that the pizza guy had _finally_ arrived.

 

With a snarl Takanori flung open the door and near shouted, “Oi, what’s the deal? You’re la-” The blond second year stopped mid-sentence. A scowl shifted onto his face. In the doorway of his house stood the only person in the world Takanori wished to see the least. “Akira? What the fuck are _you_ doing here?”

 

The tall blond looked just as surprised as the other had. “Taka… nori?”

 

“No, it’s the fucking tooth fairy,” Takanori glared pointedly. With a roll of his hazel tinted eyes he glowered at the third year boy in front of him. “Are you stalking me or something?”

 

Akira couldn’t believe it. This was Takanori’s place? The midget must have been filthy rich; or, at least, his parents were. The third year’s eyes shifted from the large western style mansion, which was unlike anything he’d ever seen before, and took in Takanori’s appearance. His toenails were carefully painted black and Akira noticed, from the way he was standing with his feel pointed ever so slightly towards each other, he was a little pigeon toed. His eyes wandered upwards; the black sweat pants the younger was sporting hung loosely around his legs and the baggy black sweater he wore hung off one shoulder, exposed a decent portion of smooth-looking milky flesh. Takanori looked different without makeup on; more natural, less like he was putting up a barrier. The lack of dark eye shadow gave him a softer appearance, making him seem less angry than usual. Before Akira even had time to register his thoughts he found himself thinking that the little blond firecracker looked incredibly cute and Akira almost dropped the pizza box he was holding as his mouth hung slightly agape.

 

“Hello?” The tall blond was awoken from his dream-like state by a small hand waving in front of his face. “I asked you a fucking question. What are you doing here?”

 

Akira shook his head a little attempting to clear it. “Uh,” he held up the box in his hand. “Delivering your pizza, what does it look like?”

 

Takanori only rolled his eyes. Just his luck. Out of all people to deliver a fucking pizza it _had_ to be that birdbrained idiot.

 

After a couple of quiet moments Akira glanced up around the portion of the house he could see from the doorway. “You live here?”

 

Takanori crossed his arms over his small chest with a huff. “What is it with you and dumb questions tonight? Of course I fucking live here, shit for brains.”

 

Alright, now Akira was starting to get pissed. He hadn’t done anything and the little blond was already having a go at him. What was his problem? Seriously, it was like the kid constantly had a stick up his arse. Akira replied in a snarky tone, “Well I guess that would explain it, wouldn’t it?”

 

“Explain what? I’m not a fucking mind reader, Suzuki.” The second year wondered what exactly Akira was getting at.

 

“It explains why you always look down on everyone,” the tall blondlaborated. “You think you’re so high and mighty because mummy and daddy own a big house and fancy cars and buy you whatever you want at the drop of a hat. It must be nice, huh? Coming home to be doted on.” Akira put on a bad impression of a post woman’s voice. “‘Oh, here sweetie, we bought you a brand new car today. Oh, _and_ we got you a new TV as well!’. How pathetic of you.” The third year student inhaled a sharp breath only to continue his heated rant straight away. “I thought there might’ve been something more behind why you hated people so much. But now I see it’s only because you’re some rich spoilt arsehole who’s so used to getting his own way he can’t bear to deal with the _real world_.”

 

Takanori had been strangely quiet throughout the entirety of Akira’s rant. The elder had expected to be cut off mid-rant by the feisty little blond; yet he remained completely silent. When Akira finally took a breath and really had a look at Takanori he found that the scowl on his face had disappeared, replaced by something he couldn’t quite pick. It wasn’t sadness, nor was it anything that looked like it. What was this expression? It almost looked like some kind of calmness but the hate that burned in Takanori’s eyes was unmistakable.

 

Finally Takanori spoke, his voice shaking ever so slightly. “You are so fucking wrong, you have no idea.”

 

In that moment Akira looked down at the younger’s sides and noticed that the smaller boy’s hands were clenched so tightly into fists that they trembled. Now Akira could guess what the expression was. He must have struck a nerve. He must have made Takanori so angry that he couldn’t even show it on his face. Had he always had a knack for doing this and he’d only just realized it? Or had he been taking it a little too far lately? The questions inside Akira’s raged on and on at a blinding pace. What was going on? He couldn’t help but feel guilty seeing the kind of effect he had on the other. He wasn’t an intentionally cruel guy; not at all. Even though he liked to pick on Takanori he never meant anything really serious by it.

 

He felt like he should apologize. But how? There was no doubt in his mind that his apology would be rejected. Takanori hated his guts. But he felt like he needed to try anyway. Sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, Akira attempted to find the right words.

 

“Uh… Takanori… I, uh… I’m-”

 

“Go away, Akira.”  The second year spoke in a voice so low and dangerous-sounding it took him a moment to register that it had in fact come from the little blond.

 

“What?”

 

Finally Takanori’s usually pretty features contorted into an expression of pure rage. Slamming one of his clenched fists against the door frame, no doubt bruising it, he screamed, “I said go the fuck away! You are _so_ unbelievably _stupid_! How dare you assume that you know everything about me just because you’ve seen where I live?  You conceited fuck!” That little hand gripped the door frame so hard his knuckles started to turn white.

 

Akira scowled. He felt guilty enough already, there was no need for Takanori to insult him and rub it in further. “Just shut up, will you?” He snapped back. “I was wrong alright? So just shut up and move on.”

 

“Move on?” Takanori huffed a humourless laugh, one that made him sound slightly crazy. “You have no idea what you just said to me, do you? Did you know I haven’t seen my parents in over a year? They don’t call, they don’t come back and visit, they don’t even email!”

 

As the words spilled from the little blond’s mouth Akira’s own hung slightly open. Did Takanori know what he was saying? Did he know he was giving this information away? Of course not. If he wasn’t in such an enraged state he would never give away this kind of information; _especially_ not to someone like Akira whom he loathed so intensely.

 

Yet the little blond firecracker continued to fizzle on. “I’m basically a fucking live-in maid; a housekeeper! I mind the house, clean it, tend to the gardens, do the shopping, _everything_. Not even a thank you. Never, not once have I been thanked for anything I’ve done.” By this point in time Takanori’s breathing had accelerated and that vein on his neck began to stand out again. “You know, I was so happy when they first brought me home. I thought I’d finally have a loving family and a warm household. But they taught me to cook and clean and as soon as they deemed that I was old enough to take care of myself they fucking left! I’m lucky if I see them once a year!”

 

The tall blond frowned at Takanori’s words. What was he talking about? Akira was totally lost. Before he had the chance to restart his little rant Akira jumped in and silenced him. “Takanori, what are you talking about? What do you mean ‘when they brought you home’?”

 

The break in the heated rant seemed to give Takanori time to regather his thoughts and it must have occurred to him the kind of information he had spilled to his arch nemesis. Eye widening he clamped a hand over his mouth. What had he been thinking? But that was just it; he hadn’t been thinking at all. He had been so mad that nothing he’d said had registered; he’d given away things about his life that he’d never ever told anyone before. Things not even Aoi knew.

 

He moved his hand slightly away from his mouth, but still keeping it hovering a few centimetres away. His muffled voice shook. “Go away. Get the hell out of here.”

 

Takanori began to retreat back into his house but as the door was closing Akira grabbed it and pulled it open. “Wait, what about your pizza?”

 

Of course, that’s the reason Akira had ended up at his doorstep. Takanori had completely forgotten, but it was inevitable that his apatite was completely gone. With a shake of his head he tugged at the door. “Just go away, I don’t want it… I don’t even like pizza anyway.”

 

Akira let go of the door just in time to avoid losing the top half of his fingers. He stood there for a second totally in a daze. What the hell was that? He was beginning to realize that there was a whole lot more to the angry little blond than he had first realized. At first he’s seemed pretty straight forward. He was different so he hated others because they reminded him every day of how different he was. At least, that’s how Akira perceived it. How had he been so blind? The blond third year usually had such a keen eye; there wasn’t much he missed about people, regardless of how clueless others thought he was. But it appeared that, when it came to Takanori, he was entirely clueless. He didn’t understand at all. He wanted to know what went on in that complicated little head. Just what went through Takanori’s mind?

 

Still breathing heavily and with his hand clamped back over his mouth Takanori slammed the door shut and slid down the polished wood. _Fuck_. What had he just said? Now Akira would ask questions, want to know what he meant. How could he have been so stupid to let all that slip? Takanori was just so enraged by Akira’s presence he couldn’t think straight. The third year always knew exactly what to say to get under his skin and it seemed to come naturally to the elder which was even more infuriating.

 

Pulling his knees up Takanori folded his thin arms on top of them and buried his blond topped head in them. “What the hell am I going to do now?”

 

***

 

Takanori didn’t show up at school the next day.

 

Akira sat in his usual spot with his regular group of friends laughing and joking just as he always did. Kouyou was chattering about how he stayed at Aoi’s house for dinner the night before; he was going on about the wonderful Tonkatsu the raven had made for him. However when the blond spotted Aoi walk out the door that lead to the landing the raven and Takanori used as their own little smoker’s room, he noticed that today Aoi was alone. The pair usually exited together but he thought that Takanori may be running a little late for some reason unbeknownst to him. Frowning Akira glanced around searching for a little blond second year, but he was nowhere to be found.

 

Telling his friends he’d be back in a moment he left his seat and headed towards the door that had only just clicked shut behind a peculiar raven-haired boy. Opening it and stepping out onto the landing Akira instantly felt the chilly breeze brush against his skin, making him shiver. He saw Aoi leaned against the railing with a cigarette between his lips as he inhaled and gazed over the Tokyo scenery.

 

Akira thought the raven hadn’t noticed but just as he was about to open his mouth and announce his presence Aoi pulled the cigarette from his lips and spoke, without breaking eye contact with the view in front of him, as he exhaled, “He’s not here.”

 

The blond cringed as he thought, ‘ _Alright, this kid is seriously creepy_.’ How had Aoi known who was behind him and how could he have known who Akira was looking for? Stupidly, Akira opened and closed his mouth, very much resembling a fish out of water, as he searched for words.

 

The dumfounded blond stammered, “H-how did you-”

 

“Just did,” Aoi shrugged.

 

Akira shook his head and stepped up beside the raven who finally glanced his way giving him a knowing look. “So you haven’t seen him today?”

 

Aoi shook his head.

 

“He’s not at school?”

 

Another head shake.

 

“Well, do you know where he is?” Akira frowned, he was staring to lose his patience, not at all liking the seemingly nonchalant answers the raven was providing him with.

 

He was further irked when Aoi just shrugged his shoulders. Akira exhaled sharply. How could Kouyou possibly stand this guy? He’d never understand it.

 

Aoi must have been able to sense the blond’s annoyance because he finally spoke up in a quiet voice. “Look, I don’t know where he is. I know as much about him as you do.”

 

“But,” Akira frowned. “Aren’t you guys friends?”

 

Aoi nodded once, “We are.”

 

“Then how can you not know anything about him?” Akira didn’t get it. Didn’t friends share things with each other?

 

“We have a different kind of friendship.”

 

Akira chuckled, “Well no fucking shit.” After a few moments of silence that Akira found quiet awkward, but clearly Aoi had no problem with, the tall blond asked, “So you’ve got no idea where he is?”

 

Aoi shook his head. “No, sorry.”

 

Akira gave the reserved raven a half smile, “It’s alright man, no sweat. I guess he just wasn’t feeling well.” But for some reason Akira didn’t believe his own words. Takanori never ever took time off school. Akira felt like there was more behind his reasoning for not showing up than the little blond would tell anyone. He supposed he’d just have to wait. 

 

Another day passed, and then another and another. Soon two weeks had passed and Takanori still hadn’t shown up at school. Akira was starting to get worried. Had he been too hard on the second year when he’s had a go at him that night? Or was the younger boy just overreacting? Akira cursed himself. Why was he so concerned anyway? For the past two weeks all he’d been able to think about was where the hell Takanori was and why he hadn’t come to school.

 

Finally after another week passed, the blond third year had had enough. He wanted to know what the hell was going on; curse his overly curious nature, his insatiable need to know everything. As soon as the final bell rang on the Friday of the third week Takanori wasn’t at school, Akira shoved his school utensils away into his bag and dashed out of the classroom ignoring the questions that his friends flung at his retreating figure.

 

He ran down the main streets of Tokyo in the direction of Takanori’s ridiculously large house. By the time he reached the front gate he was completely worn out and covered in sweat. Despite it being winter he was the heavy jacket he wore trapped any heat produced close to his body. He bent over and braced his hands on his knees as he attempted to catch his breath. Akira couldn’t believe he was really doing this. As if the little blond would give him any answers; he hated Akira’s guts, though the third year felt like he needed to at least try to figure out what was going on.

 

Once the blond had regained his breath he pressed the button on the intercom that would alert whoever was inside the house that someone was outside. Expecting a voice to come though the speaker Akira waited a few minutes but when nothing came he frowned and looked around. Glancing up at the top of the fence he noticed there was a surveillance camera. So Takanori already knew who was at the gate. Akira couldn’t be sure that the little blond was actually inside, but he had a strong gut feeling that he was.

 

This time Akira held down the button and spoke into the microphone. “Come on midget, open up. I know you’re in there.”

 

A voice did come back to him this time and it sounded worn out and hoarse, but it was definitely _him_. “ _Fuck off_.”

 

Akira sighed; maybe insulting the second year wasn’t the best way to go about this. Pressing the button again he leaned in and spoke with a gentleness in his voice that wasn’t usually there, “Takanori. Please let me in.”

 

A few moments of silent anticipation passed before Akira heard a buzzing sound and the gates began to slide open. Smiling triumphantly he began his walk down the long driveway to the western style mansion the little blond lived in; apparently all by himself. Akira had no idea what he was going to say once he faced Takanori. He might have some idea, but he had no idea how to execute what he wanted to say without being totally blunt. He felt unexpectedly nervous as he reached the front door.

 

Without him even needing to knock it opened to reveal a sight that made heart drop slightly.

 

Takanori looked horrible. His hair was a total mess of wavy blond strands; obviously he hadn’t straightened his hair in a while. He had on a similar outfit to the first time Akira had come to his doorstep. Although this time, instead on black sweat pants, he sported a pair of black pyjama shorts that sat a little above mid-thigh; they revealed slender, pale hairless legs. Akira swallowed, those legs really were a sight to see and he wondered why Takanori didn’t flaunt them more often.

 

“What do you want, Akira?” Takanori spoke in the same voice that had come through the intercom. He sounded tired and worn out, like he didn’t even feel like caring anymore. Was this Akira’s fault?

 

“Um, I just… Uh…” Akira couldn’t find the words for what he wanted to say. He averted his eyes and stared at his leather covered feet. His school shoes weren’t nearly as expensive as Takanori’s would have been. With a sigh he looked up again, “Can I come in?”

 

Takanori studied him for a moment before he opened the door wider and stepped aside. “Come on.”

 

With his heart pounding against his ribcage Akira took a step inside the expensive home, examining his surroundings in complete awe. The place was absolutely amazing. He’d never seen anything like it in his entire life, but this place _was_ Takanori’s entire life. He couldn’t help but think how lucky the little blond was. He must have had the entire world at his little fingertips. But then Akira remembered why he was there and he felt his heart rate speed up again.

 

This was going to be so incredibly difficult…


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.

Following Takanori through his elaborately decorated house, Akira stared around in complete and utter awe. He’d never seen anything so amazing in his life. As they walked through the foyer he felt the plush carpet under his sock clad feet, softer than any carpet he’d ever felt before, and when he looked up he saw a glittering crystal chandelier. As they moved forward, the tall blond glanced through an open door to his left and recognized instantly that it was a brightly lit and very inviting-looking living room. He was able to quickly glimpse a large beige leather lounge suite and the biggest flat screen television he’d seen in his life. In the corner sat a large white grand piano with its lid up, suggesting it’d recently been played. The far wall, instead of just a few windows looking over the yard, was completely comprised of floor to ceiling glass panels.

 

“Amazing,” Akira mumbled to himself as he continued to follow Takanori up the grand staircase to the upper floor of the house.

 

He knew Takanori had heard him because the little blond moved his head to the right and cast his hazel tinted orbs in Akira’s direction, not quite looking at him. The shorter refrained from talking though, only continuing to lead Akira further into the masterpiece of a home.

 

After turning left at the top of the stairs, Takanori stopped outside the fourth door on the right and put his hand on the shiny silver door handle, pushing open the obstructing piece of wood to reveal a room that was almost completely dark. The heavy black curtains were drawn shut; the only source of light filtering into the room was from either side of the thick material where it didn’t quite reach the end of the window. But once his eyes adjusted to the dark Akira saw that, despite what most people thought a teenager’s bedroom would look like, Takanori’s room was completely spotless. His bed was freshly made, his floor recently vacuumed.

 

“Have a seat.” Takanori spoke with unmistakable nonchalance in his voice; it was something that Akira had never heard in the two years he’d known the other. The feisty little blond never ceased to amaze the elder. He always seemed to have some new emotion or reaction to show that Akira had never seen before. It was all a question of why he’d never noticed these emotions before.

 

Hesitantly wandering further into the dark room, Akira sat in the black desk chair. He was acting out of character, he knew that, but he couldn’t help it. With Takanori acting so unlike his usual self it was exceedingly difficult for Akira to feel relaxed like he normally did. And so he sat in the desk chair with his back straight, feet flat on the floor and his hands folded in his lap. He knew he looked ridiculously formal, but there was little he could do about it. The nagging uneasiness in the pit of his stomach refused to subside.

 

Takanori studied Akira as he shut the door to his room, momentarily submerging the large space in total darkness before his eyes quickly adjusted. In the dimly lit room he could see Akira sitting in his desk chair looking very much like he’d just had a stick shoved up his arse. The blond boy was completely rigid, with his large hands clasped tightly in his lap.  Takanori furrowed his well-trimmed brows and narrowed his eyes at his company; he looked even more like an idiot now.

 

Giving Akira an incredulous look, Takanori crawled onto his king size bed and sat with his back against the headboard. He brought his thin legs up, until his thighs pressed against his sweater clad torso, and wrapped his arms around them, tucking himself in a tight little ball. He rested his chin on top of his knees and stared directly at Akira who seemed to be avoiding his eyes at all cost.

 

Takanori wondered why Akira was even there. The tall blond had been the last person he’d expected to show up at his doorstep. Why? Why did he care? Why did he think that Takanori would give _him_ any answers? The fact that Akira even thought for a second that Takanori would reveal anything to him made the stupid bird even less intelligent than before; and that was really saying something. But wait… Takanori had revealed things. Things he’d never intended to tell anyone. Ever. He cursed himself for being so careless with his words. He’d always had a temper, but he was usually able to control what he said. So why was the so different when it came to Akira? When he was around the elder blond especially when he was angry, what came out of his mouth was like word vomit. He couldn’t control what he said. The third year made him completely lose track of his train of thought. He wondered if things had always been this way between them. Maybe he’d been giving things away to the tall blond since the day they’d met and he’d just never noticed. All these raging thoughts made Takanori’s head hurt and he had to squeeze his eyes shut tightly in order to force them to subside… for now.

 

Opening his eyes up again he noticed that Akira was still refusing to look at him. Takanori stared with a bored expression on his usually pretty features and his voice conveyed his obvious boredom perfectly. “What the hell are you doing here, Suzuki?”

 

Akira suddenly looked at him and scoffed. “Oh, come on Takanori. I know you’re blond but you aren’t _that_ dumb.”

 

Takanori curled his top lip in what looked like a snarl, but no noise came out. The little blond then dropped his gaze, something that was very uncharacteristic of him, to focus on the freshly cleaned bed cover. “Don’t insult me, Akira. I’m not in the mood.”

 

Not in the mood? Since when was Takanori ever not in the mood for swapping insults? He always had something to say no matter what the situation was. So why was he so withdrawn time? Akira felt like he was going crazy.

 

Taking a deep breath, Akira figured he may as well just cut to the chase. There was no use in beating around the bush. “I want to know why you haven’t been at school for _three fucking weeks_. What the hell is going?”

 

What Akira would have expected to be snarky reply was said with the same nonchalance that had seemed to settle itself in the tone of Takanori’s voice. “I don’t remember that ever being your business, so just drop it.”

 

“No, I won’t drop it,” Akira scowled at the little blond; his shitty attitude was quickly making its way under the elder boy’s skin. The roles were reversed; Takanori was that one avoiding eye contact with Akira. “I want to know what’s going on, Takanori.”

 

“Why should I tell _you_?” Takanori suddenly raised his eyes to meet Akira’s gaze. A challenge lay underneath the mask of boredom. Takanori wanted the older blond to tell him _exactly_ why he wanted answers. He wanted him to come up with a valid reason; though he already knew there wouldn’t be one. Akira had no right to know anything about Takanori or his problem. He wished the taller blond would just butt out.

 

He recognized the challenge in his eyes straight away. Akira opened his mouth to answer but he fell short of finding the right words. The younger boy was exactly right. Why _should_ Takanori tell him? Akira couldn’t think of a reason, he didn’t have one. But he had his mind set find out what exactly was going on with the little second year. Akira was always a very determined person; once he said he was going to do something he’d always do exactly that. Akira never took no for an answer.

 

He sighed and scratched the back of his head, “I haven’t got a reason besides the fact that I want to know.”

 

Takanori scoffed, “Sorry, that’s not going to cut it. You expect me to spill every detail just because you want to know? That’s absolute bullshit.”

 

Scowling, Akira felt the earlier uneasiness start to subside and he began to slouch in his seat. The annoyance the little blond made him feel was beginning to feel more normal to him. This was what he was used to; this was the way things were meant to be. Akira couldn’t help but feel slightly more comfortable when he was pissed with Takanori and vice versa, it just felt more normal.

 

Takanori was also beginning to lose him patience. He clenched his fists and tightened the hold he had on his own legs. He growled through his teeth, “I don’t want you in my house, so why the hell are you still here?” 

 

The blond third year glared back, clenching his own fists. His short fuse was quickly running out. “I don’t know why I’m still here, alright? But I do kno-”

 

“If you don’t know then just fucking leave already!” Takanori yelled. Clearly he’d had enough of the elder blond’s presence.  “I don’t want you here, Akira!”

 

“Let me finish speaking, you rude little shit!” Akira leapt out of the desk chair and strode towards the bed Takanori sat on, an unattractive scowl etched into his usually handsome features. He reached out and took hold of one of the second year’s thin wrists and yanked him forward, causing him to tumble out of his tightly held ball and sit on the bed in front of the older boy with his legs splayed out to the side, needing to lean on his spare hand in order to not fall over. Akira bent so that Takanori’s petit nose almost touched his own covered one. “I don’t know why I’m still here.” His fingers tightened around the younger boy’s wrist. “But I do know that I’m not leave until I get some fucking answers.”

 

Takanori almost snarled. He yanked on his wrist, trying to free it from Akira’s iron grip, but his attempts were all in vain. He laughed bitterly and glared into Akira’s onyx eyes. “Well you might as well pack up your bags and move in, birdbrain. Because there’s no way I’ll _ever_ answer to _you_.”  

 

As much as Takanori tried to keep his facial expression as angry as possible he couldn’t help but wince and whimper ever so slightly as Akira’s grip tightened once again. The taller blond heard the strange noise come from Takanori and blinked a few times, seeming as though he was coming out of some form of trance. He looked down at the tiny, breakable wrist he had in his large hand. H gasped as he released it and pulled back. Takanori cradled his hand against his chest and rubbed his sore wrist, glaring up at the third year.

 

Akira felt an instant stab of guilt. He hadn’t meant to do that; not at all. What had he been thinking? But that’s just it; he hadn’t been. ‘ _Stupid_ ,’ he though. ‘ _I’m so fucking stupid! How could I let my temper get that out of hand?_ ’ He looked down at the abused wrist and noticed the red finger marks left there and they only served to make him feel worse. His eyebrows pulled together in what could only be concern, whether he knew it or not. “Takanori, I’m-”

 

“Get out!” The little blond screamed. “Get the fuck out of my house! You fucking arsehole!”

 

Akira just stood there for a few moments trying to process what he’d just done. Sure, he’d beat Takanori up before; neither of them ever forgot it. It had been a regular part of life up until three weeks ago. But this time hurting him felt… wrong; he’d never meant to do it.

 

The little blond glowered at him. “Didn’t you hear me? Are you fucking deaf or something? I said _get out_!”

 

 “No.”

 

Takanori’s hazel eyes widened in pure rage, “What did you just say?”

 

Akira took a deep breath to calm himself. He stood tall, slightly puffing out his chest and balling his hands into fists at his sides. “I said, not. I told you, I’m leaving until I get answers.” He wasn’t about to back down, he never did. It was just in his nature to be stubborn.

 

The little blond on the bed stared at him as if he were some kind of alien. He figured Takanori was totally taken aback by his blatant refusal to leave. It made Akira wonder if the second year had ever let anyone else inside his house. Probably not, considering how horrible Takanori was at making friends. He felt a small surge of pride in the pit of his stomach. Knowing that he’d been the first to enter this part of Takanori’s life made him want to grin in triumph. But he felt that if he did that he may get the heaviest nearby object thrown at his head, which didn’t feel very appealing to him in the slightest.

 

All of a sudden Takanori had launched himself off the bed taking a hold of Akira’s wrist with the hand that wasn’t attached to his own injured one. The tall blond was ruthlessly jerked forward; being pulled towards the bedroom door which Takanori flung open and exited, Akira in tow. The little blond had a surprisingly strong grip and, between the shock of suddenly being treated like a rag doll and the iron grip around his wrist, he couldn’t seem to break free.

 

Pulling the front door open Takanori flung Akira outside so hard the tall blond tripped down the small front step and landed hard on the gravel of the driveway, scraping his hands and knees in the process. He hissed in pain as he sat up and whipped his head to see the enraged second year standing in the doorway breathing heavily, a dark scowl etched into his usually flawless brow. Takanori looked as though he was about to murder someone and Akira figured that someone was most likely him; though that didn’t make him want to leave. Not at all. He still needed to get his answers.

 

Takanori slammed the door shut, no doubt disappearing back into his bedroom. Akira sat up and hissed again as he brought his hands up to assess the damage that’d been done. He had scrapes all over his palms and a small amount of blood oozed from the freshly opened wounds and when he pulled up the legs of his school trousers he noticed his knees were in no better shape. But still he stayed where he was, not moving an inch from where he sat in the middle of the gravel driveway outside Takanori’s door. He would stay. He didn’t care how long it took. He would stay until Takanori opened that door and gave him the answers he desired so intensely.

 

Meanwhile, inside the large mansion, Takanori closed the door to his favourite room and slid down the wood until his backside hit the soft carpeted floor. He looked around the room; though his mind was still racing its contents brought an instant wave of calm upon him. The room contained numerous guitars and basses in their stands, drum kit in the corner, a keyboard sitting on its stand in front of a piano stool, as well a microphone and computer. His recording studio. His sanctuary. The place he would never let anyone see. It was the place Takanori spent ninety per cent of his time. It was the room in which he poured his feelings out without fear of them ever being seen or heard by anyone. It was his ultimate safe place.

 

…The only place he ever cried.

 

Takanori loathed crying. It made him look weak. It meant that the stress of the world was making his impeccably built walls crumble to nothing but a fine dust. He tried with all his might to keep the salty weakness inside but he was powerless to stop it. All at once every little scrap of pent up emotion came flowing out in trails of tears, staining his cheeks and dripping onto the over-sized black sweater he wore. He hated himself when he looked like this. So broken. So helpless. What was wrong with him? Letting something to simple break his defences was stupid.

 

If felt as though years had passed when, in reality, it’d only been a few hours. Even that was a long time for someone to cry. Takanori finally felt his tear ducts run dry, but still, he didn’t move an inch. The sun had long ago set; it must’ve been at least nine o’clock by the time the little blond finally stood up on wobbly legs, needing to momentarily brace himself against the door. Taking a shaky breath he wiped away the remainder of the dried up tears. There was no doubt in Takanori’s mind that his eyes were red and puffy, but he had no concerns about that at the time.

 

Making it to the chair by the computer desk, he plopped down in it and wheeled it over to his electric guitar stand, picking up his favourite cherry red Ibanez. Sometimes he thought he looked a little odd with the instrument because its round body seemed so large against his own small frame. But he loved the guitar too much to really care. Its glossy body reflected the light of the desk lamp next to the high quality desktop computer and expensive recording equipment. Takanori plugged the guitar into one of the numerous amps in the room and turned up the volume. Taking a black pick off the desk he brought his right hand to the where the strings sat near the bridge and gave a single strum to check that the instrument was in tune. Deciding that it was, he raised his left hand to the neck. However, when he pressed his fingers down on the strings in a B minor chord he hissed and dropped the hand.

 

Looking down at his left wrist he scowled. It was the one Akira had grabbed and nearly squeezed the life out of. The marks of his fingers were still there, quickly turning into a painful bruise. Takanori tried the chord again only to come across the same result; a sharp jab of pain. Clearly if he moved the appendage the wrong way it would hurt, and that mean he wouldn’t be able to play any instrument for at least a few days.

 

“Fuck!” Takanori yelled and threw his pick across the room, managing to hit the cymbal of the drum kit. Akira always seemed to cause troubles for him. Thanks to that stupid third year Takanori had been robbed of his only source of comfort. What was he to do now? Wallow in self-hate and have his own little pity party? Not likely, but those seemed like the most plausible options seeing as he had no way of relieving his stress. The pent up anxieties would soon burst and he could do things much worse than cry.

 

Placing the guitar back on its stand the little blond leaned back in the chair. He let a rush of air leave his lungs. What was he going to do? All he’d done for three weeks was compose and record, compose and record in order supress the bubbling emotions inside him, and now that his source of relief was gone he felt like he might explode.

 

***

 

“Dammit, it’s cold.” Akira shivered as he pulled his school jacket tighter around himself. Being outside at night during winter was possibly one of the stupidest decisions the blondver made. But he wouldn’t give up; he wouldn’t leave Takanori alone until he got what he wanted.

 

His shoulders shook violently as he checked his watch; almost midnight. He’d been sitting in Takanori’s driveway for at least six or seven hour. He growled and tucked his hand back inside his sleeve. Akira wondered what that little blond was doing inside the house. Was he sitting there laughing at the idiot in the driveway? Probably not. Was he buried deep inside the covers of his bed sleeping? Possibly, but Akira had a feeling that Takanori didn’t sleep before midnight.

 

He growled and tucked his knees up further, trying to preserve as much body heat as possible and stop the uncontrollable shaking, the teeth chattering and the ragged breaths that came out as wisps of heat in the cold air. He would wait. He would wait as long as he needed to. Until Takanori was ready to open up to him. Why? Akira had no clue.

 

Takanori took a sip from the glass of water and leaned against the kitchen bench, dropping his head and heaving a sigh. After he’d calmed down he’d taken a relaxing shower and returned to his recording studio to mess around and do some editing for a song he’d finished recording a few days prior. He guessed that was what he’d have to do for a few days until the pain in his wrist subsided.

 

Editing took up a fair chunk of time, so when Takanori glanced up at the wall clock in the kitchen he noted that the time was just ticking past one in the morning. He gulped down the rest of his water and placed the glass to later be washed. Raising his eyes he looked out the window above the sink. Takanori’s eyes widened as his jaw dropped.

 

Through the glass panel overlooking the driveway he could see a lone figure sitting on the ground not too far away from the front door. Though the body was hunched in a tight shivering ball he could clearly see the spiked blond hair.

 

“No fucking way…” Takanori mumbled, not believing his eyes.

 

Leaving the dark kitchen, not having bothered to turn on any lights, Takanori walked swiftly through the house. Turning into the foyer he stopped just short of the front door. Glancing through one of the tall glass panels either side of the door he could see Akira back facing the door. Takanori could see how violently his frame was shaking; he also noticed that Akira hadn’t moved an inch from where the little blond had thrown him to the ground.

 

Takanori felt a small tug in his chest. Like there was a string wrapped around his heart and someone was lightly pulling on it. It was a barely-there feeling, but Takanori felt it all the same. Squeezing his eyes shut he reopened them and slowly pulled open the front door and began shivering as the icy wind whirled around his barely covered legs. After showering he’d changed into a fresh pair of shorts and another baggy sweater. He walked out onto the little front step; the marble it was made of was even colder than the wind.

 

The gravel barely made a sound under his bare feet as he walked towards the boy hunched over in the driveway. Takanori doubted the tall blond even heard him coming; if the sound of his chattering teeth was anything to go by. The small blond stood behind him for a moment, debating on what he was to do. But seeing Akira sitting there in the freezing cold and knowing he’d been there for hours on end made Takanori’s usually cold heart melt slightly; as much as he would like to deny it.

 

Takanori crouched down just behind Akira and placed a hand gently on his shivering shoulder. “Oi, birdbrain.” Even though he used his usual insult for the third year, Takanori’s voice was soft and almost tender.

 

Akira turned his head to the side just enough to be able to look at Takanori out of the corner of his eyes. The little blond could feel the elder boy’s shoulder shaking under his hand and he couldn’t help but feel a little bit bad. Studying the tall blond for a moment the second year stood up and moved around to stand in front of him. Begrudgingly he reached down and took hold Akira sleeve. Gripping a fistful in his small hand Takanori tugged lightly.

 

“Come on, idiot,” he grumbled. “You’ll freeze to death if you stay out here.”

 

Akira raised his head and looked up at the boy who had the wrist of his sleeve grasped in his little hand, while the other arm still stayed securely tucked around his legs. “W-w-hat do you c-care if-f I f-free-eze?” He stuttered, his chattering teeth making it difficult to talk.

 

Takanori rolled his hazel eyes and tugged on the sleeve again, “Just get your stupid arse inside.”

 

Akira studied him for a moment. He noticed that goosebumps had risen on Takanori’s bare legs and his shoulders were beginning to shake ever so slightly. The little blond had come outside dressed in far less clothes than him in order to persuade him back inside. A little wave of warmth spread through Akira’s chest at the thought. So instead of causing any more trouble he hauled his shaking frame up off the ground and followed as Takanori lead him inside the warm house.

 

Once they were back in Takanori’s dark bedroom Akira felt much warmer. The welcoming heat of the house had soaked into his body almost instantly; though a shudder would still ripple through him occasionally. He couldn’t help but feel slightly triumphant, though he knew he wasn’t all the way there yet. The little blond was yet to give him answers.

 

Stopping in the middle of the room Takanori turned around and glared up at Akira. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

 

Akira chuckled, “Yeah, I guess I am. But you know-”

 

“You could catch a cold being out there for so long! Do you really think I want to take responsibility for that?   
What were you thinking sitting out there for hours like a fool?” Takanori ranted on, tightening his fist.

 

“Takano-” Akira tried to catch his attention but failed as the little blond continued on after taking a quick breath.

 

“And what if I hadn’t noticed you and you’d stayed out there all night? You would’ve been a fucking popsicle by the time I’d found you. You are just so unbelievably stupid!”

 

“I know. But, Takanori…” Akira looked down at him, a slightly amused curve to his lips.

 

“What?!” He snapped, still glaring furiously.

 

“… You can let go of my sleeve now.” Akira glanced down at Takanori’s small hand which was still gripping onto the wrist of his jacket.

 

The second year’s eye widened as he followed Akira’s gaze. He quickly dropped his hand and shoved it behind his back as his cheeks turned an embarrassing shade of pink. He turned his head to the side and let his slightly damp locks fall across his face, hopefully hiding it.

 

Akira chuckled, “Takanori, are you blushing?”

 

“No! Shut the fuck up!” He snapped and took a step back, finally realising how close the two were standing.

 

“Sure,” Akira dragged out the ‘u’, making sure it was clear he didn’t believe a word Takanori said.

 

“Just… shut up and go and have a shower. You must still be really cold,” the small blond said. He just wanted an excuse to get Akira out of the room and save himself from further embarrassment.

 

Akira nodded; he did have a point. “Alright. Where’s the bathroom?”

 

Takanori pointed in the direction of the door on the right hand side of his bed, “Over there, there’s a spare towel on the rack as well. Pass your uniform out here and I’ll go and put it in the wash.”

 

“Thanks,” Akira said as he headed in the direction he was pointed in, disappearing inside.

 

Once Takanori heard the shower start up and he had Akira’s used uniform in hand he started on his way downstairs. He’d been meaning to put on a load of washing anyway. Gathering all of the used clothes that had travelled down the chute he stuffed them into the washing machine and switched it on. As the hum of the device started up he dropped himself onto the cold tiled floor.

 

“What the hell was that?” he mumbled to himself as he looked down at the hand he’d used to hold onto Akira’s sleeve. “Why the hell was I _blushing_?” He couldn’t help but feel slightly aggravated with himself.

 

After the twenty minutes it took to complete the wash cycle the machine beeped and Takanori stood up, loading the damp clothes into the dryer. Turning it on, he exited the room and returned to the other part of the house. He was sure Akira would be done with his shower so he didn’t bother to knock when he got back to his bedroom.

 

“Uh, I can probably find-” Takanori stopped in the doorway when his eyes scanned the room noticing Akira on his bed... asleep. The tall blond was clad in nothing but a towel, leaving his bare muscled chest on display as he sprawled on the king size mattress. Takanori’s breath caught in his throat as he drew closer, examining the fine specimen of human. As much as he liked to hate Akira there was no denying the fact that he was gorgeous. His body looked like something that had been crafted by the angels.

 

Shaking his head, Takanori snapped out of his little trance long enough to trudge over to the bed. “Oi, birdbrain. You can’t sleep there. Wake up.” He reached down to put his hand on Akira’s shoulder and shake him awake. But as his fingertips brushed his lightly tanned skin Takanori stopped. The tall blond looked so at peace when he slept. The second year student studied Akira’s calm features for a moment before he sighed and dropped his hand back by his side.

 

Grumbling, Takanori pulled two pillows off one side of the bed and made himself as comfortable as possible on the floor, tossing and turning until he found a tolerable position. He shut his eyes and found himself drifting off to sleep easier than he thought he would.

 

‘ _Stupid birdbrain invading my house, using my bathroom, steeling my bed…_ ’ Takanori thought as his mind finally gave into unconsciousness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.

Akira stirred in his sleep, rolling over and hugging the covers closer to himself.  A content sigh left his lips as he slowly came back to consciousness. He stretched his legs out and reached his arms above his head, feeling the comfortable mattress underneath his spread out limbs. ‘ _Hold on_ ,’ he though as he swiftly opened his eyes. He sat up and looked around, confused as to exactly where he was. ‘ _My bed isn’t this big_.’

 

Slowly his memories from the day before filtered through his brain. He remembered going to Takanori’s house in search of answers, being thrown out and sitting outside in the cold for hours until Takanori finally went outside to get him. He remembered having a shower and then laying down on the little blond’s bed while he waited for him to get back. He didn’t remember falling asleep. Turning his head he looked at the digital clock on the bedside table. The red numbers glinted at him in the dark room, telling him that the time was just past eleven o’clock in the morning. He glanced around the room, searching for a certain little blond, but he was nowhere to be seen.

 

Sitting up in bed, Akira noticed that a pair of sweat pants and a shirt was neatly folded near his feet. Clearly Takanori had put them there, but it surprised Akira that he’d cared enough to do so. Akira quickly changed into the pants, ignoring the shirt, leaving it sitting on the tousled sheets. Exiting the room he tiptoed down the hallway towards the staircase, trying to spot any other sign of life besides himself. Reaching the bottom level of the house Akira peeked his head into the living room he’d seen the day before. Nothing. He moved on, finding another slightly smaller living room further down the hallway. Nothing again. He sighed in frustration. It could take hours to find Takanori in that house.

 

Suddenly a loud clatter followed by a string of curses came from the opposite side of the hallway. Akira crossed the tiled floor towards the direction of the noise. He walked through an archway and found himself in a luxurious kitchen. Much like the rest of the house it was mainly white with the exception of the countertops, which were black marble. Cupboards and draws lined the walls both high and low, with the oven and microwave built into the wall. A window sat above the sink, overlooking the driveway and front yard. In the centre of the large room sat an island. One half was made of the same materials as the rest of the kitchen, white wood and black marble, and on it sat four hotplates. The other half of the island was a light coloured, curved wooden table with two white chairs tucked neatly underneath. Akira stared in awe at the room. His own kitchen was probably only an eighth of the size of Takanori’s.

 

Akira looked to the ground to see the little blond crouched on the floor in front of what used to be a glass, but now it was just shards scattered along the ground. Takanori hissed and clutched his hand to his chest with his eyes screwed shut; obviously he hadn’t noticed Akira enter the room. A few little droplets of crimson tainted the white tiled floor. 

 

Akira’s eyes widened as he rushed into the room. “Takanori, you’re hurt! Are you ok?”

 

The little blond snapped his head up and stared at Akira, caught completely off guard by his sudden entrance. “I’m fine,” he managed to growl as he turned away from the hand Akira had stretched out in his direction. “I see you finally decided to grace me with your presence,” he spat sarcastically.

 

“Why are you in such a bad mood?” Akira scowled, not at all liking the tone of voice he was receiving. “I haven’t done anything.”

 

Takanori scoffed. “Haven’t done anything? Are you kidding me? You barge into my house demanding answers you already knew you weren’t going to get, sit on my doorstep until one in the morning, I let you have a shower, I wash your fucking clothes and then you steel my fucking bed; forcing _me_ to sleep on the floor! How _dumb_ are you?” Takanori yelled, still clutching his bleeding hand to his chest as more blood continued to slowly drip onto the floor. “Haven’t done anything,” he mumbled more to himself than to the blond boy in front of him.

 

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep, alright?” Akira snapped. “I was just waiting for you to get back so I could ask for some goddamn clothes!”

 

“Well if you hadn’t have fallen asleep I would’ve been able to get some for you, idiot.”

 

“I already told you, midget. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I just did,” Akira growled. “If _you_ hadn’t have left me outside to freeze until all ungodly hours of the morning we wouldn’t even have this fucking problem!”

 

“Look,” Takanori stood up, glaring up at Akira. “I didn’t ask you to sit outside my door like some kind lost pupp- Ah! Fuck!” He screamed as he unconsciously took a step forward, a sharp piece of glass lodging into the bottom of his bare foot. He toppled forward, his slim body smacking into Akira’s, sending them both toppling onto the floor. They hit the ground with a loud ‘ _oof_ ’, the blond second year landing on Akira’s bare chest with his petite waist nestled between the elder boys legs.

 

Takanori clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut as he balled his uninjured hand into a fist against Akira’s chest. Pained whimpers and groans left his plush lips as he tried to hold back the tears. “Fuck,” he groaned as he dropped his forehead against Akira’s chest, struggling to keep his breathing steady. Takanori had never had a high pain tolerance.

 

“Oi, Takanori. Are you alright?” Akira looked down only to have his eyes meet with the crown of a blond topped head. He put his hands on the second year’s shoulders and shook lightly, “Hey. Takanori, look at me. I need you to tell me if you’re ok.”

 

Takanori growled into the tall blond’s bare chest, “Do I fucking look ok to you, birdbrain?!” 

 

Akira sighed, he had to do something. “Alright, Takanori. I’m going to sit up, which means I’m going to have to move you. Is that alright?” It took a few moments, but the little blond nodded his head. Slowly, Akira pushed himself up, manoeuvring the other into a sitting position of his own. Takanori kept his head low, an occasional whimper escaping his lips. “Ok, now I’m going to pick you up, alright? Just try not to move too much or you’ll hurt yourself even more.”

 

“Just hurry up, idiot!” Takanori shouted, still struggling to keep his tears at bay. 

 

The tall blond bent down and slipped one arm around Takanori’s middle and the other one underneath his knees, lifting the featherweight with ease. Still keeping his head low, the blond ragdoll dropped his head into the crook of Akira’s neck as a few droplets of moisture dampened his cheeks. Akira moved as quickly as he could without jostling Takanori too much; he was aware that the second year was in a fair amount of pain.

 

Arriving at the door to Takanori’s room, Akira pushed open the obstructing piece of wood and rushed into the bathroom. Carefully he placed the little blond on the countertop, leaving his legs dangling off the edge. Akira began searching for a pair of tweezers which he was sure Takanori had, judging my how perfectly his eyebrows were shaped. He had no problem finding the utensil and he placed them beside the younger boy.

 

“Takanori, I need you to tell me where the first aid kit is,” Akira put a hand on the other boy’s knee, letting him know that he was nearby.

 

Takanori spoke through clenched teeth, “Under… the sink.”

 

Akira didn’t need to be told twice. He threw open the doors and pulled out the dark green box, placing it on the floor in front of Takanori. He quickly pulled one of the freshly washed towels off the rack and laid it underneath the little blond’s dangling feet.

 

Carefully taking the injured foot in his hand, holding onto the heel in order to point the bottom up slightly, Akira glanced up, “This might hurt a bit. But I promise it’ll be over soon.”

 

“Just hurry the fuck up, would you?!”

 

Without another word Akira picked up the tweezers and stooped his head down to focus on the task at hand. Takanori’s cries filled the room as Akira clenched the piece of glass with the tweezers and pulled, sliding it out of the delicate skin. The little blond growled through clenched teeth and clung to the edge of the counter. Blood dripped onto the white towel as Akira brought it up to slow the bleeding. He held it there for a few minutes until he was sure the blood flow had calmed down. Quickly cleaning the area, he stuck a plaster over it and took a bandage out of the first aid kit, wrapping it around Takanori’s foot and ankle surprisingly securely.

 

“There,” Akira stated and stood up, bending over at the waist to look at Takanori’s face. “Done. Are you alright?” The blond third year didn’t receive and answer. He placed his hand against the younger boy’s thigh. “Hey, Takanori. Look at me.”

 

Takanori shook his head vigorously as an unintentional sob wracked his small frame. It was then that Akira understood. Takanori didn’t want him to see his face because he was crying. The third year didn’t want to press any further so he knelt back down and gave Takanori’s thigh a little pat.

 

“Come on, give me your hand and I’ll patch that up too,” he held his hand palm up, waiting for the other’s small hand to be presented.

 

“You’re hurt, too.” Takanori’s weak voice came from behind the veil of blond hair.

 

“Huh?” Akira blinked.

 

“Your palm,” Takanori sniffed. “It’s all scraped.”

 

The tall blond looked at his hand. Indeed his palm was all scraped up from when he’d been unceremoniously thrown to the ground outside the night before. But that didn’t matter to him anymore. “It’s nothing,” he shrugged. “Now give me your hand.”

 

Hesitantly Takanori reached out and gingerly placed his small hand in Akira’s palm. Without a word the third year wiped off the blood and stuck another plaster over the cut. He silently packed away the first aid kit, placing it back under the sink, washed off the bloodied tweezers, and put them back where they belong. He spotted a laundry chute in the wall near the shower and threw the soiled towel inside, thinking he’d wash it later. All the while Takanori sat on the countertop, eyes downcast, refusing to meet anything but the cold tiled floor.

 

“Come on.” He didn’t protest when Akira scooped him up again and headed back into his bedroom. It was pointless to argue, he knew he wouldn’t be able to walk anyway, so he just shut his mouth and went along with it.

 

After laying the injured blond of the large bed, Akira took a seat beside him. He wondered what was going through Takanori’s mind. He’d expected the feisty blond to put up more of a fight; but instead he’d just gone along with it. Perhaps he was in too much pain to really care. But it was still uncharacteristic of Takanori to be so willing.

 

“Are you feeling better now?” Akira asked leaning forwards slightly, trying to get a better look at the other boy’s face.

 

Takanori nodded, “Yeah…” He was quiet for a few moments, avoiding looking at Akira. “I, um… well…”

 

“You’re welcome.” Even though he hadn’t said anything, Akira knew the younger boy was trying to say thank you. “I couldn’t let you bleed to death. Then I wouldn’t get my answers.”

 

Akira chuckled but stopped when he saw Takanori glaring at him from underneath his pale blond fringe. The little second year huffed and rolled over on the bed, facing his back towards the elder. Clearly he wasn’t happy that Akira still hadn’t let the subject of answers go, even if he was just joking around.

 

“Aw, come on Takanori,” Akira wined. “I was only kidding around.” He got up and walked around to the other side of the bed, crouching down so he was eye level with the second year. The blond on the bed huffed again and rolled in the other direction. “Oi,” Akira said, crawling up onto the bed. “Don’t be like that.”

 

“Go away,” Takanori grumbled. He didn’t like this new playful side of Akira. It was really weirding him out. He’d never seen the older blond act like that, ever. He only ever knew him as a dumb, ill-tempered and stubborn birdbrain. Takanori shifted uncomfortably as Akira drew closer.

 

“Come on.” The tall blond poked his side, achieving a sound of surprise from Takanori. “A moment ago you were all shy and trying to say thank you. Now you’re all pouty and grumpy.” Akira poked Takanori’s side again.

 

‘ _Ok, this is seriously weird_ ,’ Takanori thought. Why was Akira being this way? The tall blond was never that friendly towards him. He’d seen the other be this way with his friends before, but never with Takanori himself. He jumped when Akira poked his side for the third time and his patience was really starting to wear thin. “Will you fuck off?” Takanori snapped, trying to edge further away without falling off the side of the bed.

 

“Oh, that’s not very nice. You know, I just saved your foot and now you’re telling me to fuck off. How rude,” Akira feigned offence, placing a hand on his chest in a dramatic way.

 

Takanori scowled and looked at the third year over his shoulder, studying him incredulously. Seriously, what had gotten into him? It was really, really strange. Maybe he’d swallowed something from the first aid kit and was tripping out on some weird chemical. That seemed like the only plausible option in Takanori’s mind. There was no way this was one of Akira’s personality traits. No way at all.

 

“Will you go and occupy yourself elsewhere?” Takanori grumbled. “You’re really starting to freak me out and I’m _not_ in the mood.”

 

“How am I freaking you out?” Akira asked, sitting up and staring down at Takanori.

 

The small blond shook his head and looked away, “Nevermind. Just… go somewhere else.”

 

Akira chuckled. “Am I freaking you out because you’ve never seen me acting so light-hearted? Is that it?”

 

Takanori looked back over his shoulder, slightly wide-eyed. How had Akira known that? Wasn’t he meant to be incredibly thick-headed? How was he being so observant? Takanori was starting to think he didn’t really know this tall blond third year at all.

 

“Just shut up and leave me alone,” the little blond folded his arms. He wished more than anything to just get up and walk away, though he guessed that with his cut up foot in a bandage he wouldn’t get very far. So the only thing he could do was push Akira away. 

 

The blond third year was quiet for a few moments, staring at Takanori’s back as he pouted and faced the other way. Akira couldn’t help but smile at how the little blond was acting. Who would have known the ever-grumpy Takanori had such a childish side?

 

“Takanori?” Akira shifted his position on the bed, sitting up and leaning his back against the headboard as he continued to gaze down at the little blond.

 

“What?” Takanori grumbled, still sounding like he was pouting.

 

“… Thanks for the clothes.”

 

The little blond glanced at the older boy over his shoulder. “You’re welcome… I guess.”  And he quickly added, “Don’t get used it though. I’m not going to continue being this nice. This is a one-time thing. Got it, birdbrain?”

 

Akira chuckled, “Understood.”

 

The blond third year smiled to himself and crossed his arms over his chest as he stared up at the ceiling. He wondered how he’d get Takanori to open up to him. Akira was beginning to realize that he wanted to know more about the other blond; not just why he didn’t come to school for three weeks, but about Takanori himself. What was he interested in, his hobbies, his favourite colour, his favourite food, favourite book? Akira wanted to know; who exactly was Matsumoto Takanori?

 

But the little blond seemed to hate him so much and he wondered if he could ever break through that seemingly impenetrable shell. Moreover, why would Takanori ever want to open up to someone like Akira? Someone who’d subjected him to almost constant bullying. Akira regretted it, of course. But would Takanori believe him if he apologized?  From what the third year understood, it wasn’t in the younger boy’s nature to be very forgiving. What had made Takanori that way to begin with? There must have been something to make him so hateful and distrusting of other people. Akira knew he had to figure it out; no matter how much he had to pester and hang around the other boy. He would figure it out.

 

Not ten minutes had passed when Akira heard light snores coming from the still body beside him. The tall blond shifted closer and leaned over to peer down at Takanori’s face. He discovered the little blond sleeping soundly, one of his small hands curled up next to his head. Akira felt a pang in his stomach when he saw the light bruising on the wrist; it was clearly in the shape of a fingers. Frowning, he leaned his torso over Takanori’s sleeping form and brushed his fingertips over the purple tinted flesh.

 

The sleeping blond groaned and rolled over, facing Akira who quickly pulled away; worried he’d woken the other up. But Takanori continued to sleep peacefully, completely oblivious to any other presence in the room. That obliviousness was solidified when the little blond slung his arm over Akira’s thighs, as well as a leg which he tucked comfortably between the tall blond’s, and shifted himself closer. Lifting his head up, Takanori used the curve between the third year’s leg and hip as a pillow, nestling his head against the older boy’s upper thigh. As Takanori slept quietly Akira took the opportunity to test something out. Slowly he brought his hand up to rest it in Takanori’s mop of blond hair, stroking and lightly massaging his scalp. The sleeping blond shifted slightly and sighed, his arms tightening slightly around Akira’s legs. The tiniest of smiles pulled at the corner of Takanori’s lips and Akira was overcome with a feeling of warmth. It was the first time he’d ever seen the younger boy even come close to actually smiling.

 

Akira figured that Takanori was worn out from his uncomfortable night on the floor, and as the minutes ticked by the third year felt himself slowly drifting off to sleep as well. It wasn’t that he was tired; it was just that having Takanori in his lap made him feel unexpectedly comfortable. A month ago, Akira would’ve never pictured himself in any kind of situation that even resembled the one he found himself in. He wondered why he hadn’t tried to take different approach with the little blond when they’d first met. He wondered if it was because he really was as much of an arrogant arsehole as Takanori always told him. Had the little blond been right all along? Akira was beginning to think that he’d been the one in the wrong the entire time, even though Takanori was quite often unnecessarily hateful, at least he had a reason for it; even though Akira didn’t know what that reason was yet.

 

Slowly but surely, unconsciousness took ahold of Akira’s mind and he found himself drifting off into a dreamless sleep with his fingers still threaded in to Takanori’s soft blond locks as the second year snuggled up to him.

 

***

 

When Takanori cracked his eyes open, slowly coming out of his sleeping state, he noticed that the sun was beginning to set outside; indicating that it was probably around four in the afternoon. He’d really slept for four hours? It felt like mere minutes, but the little blond definitely felt refreshed.

 

As he became more conscious, he realized something was resting on top of his head. Reaching up and feeling around, he froze. Were those… fingers? Slowly and with wide eyes, Takanori looked down and noticed that his arm and a leg were slung across someone else’s and his head was resting in their lap. Turning his head and looking up the second year almost jumped out of his skin. Above him, Akira sat slightly slouched as he snoozed with his hand resting in Takanori’s hair as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

 

Takanori’s heartbeat skyrocketed in a mere second and he shot up straight, scampering backwards. He let out a yelp of surprise as he tumbled off the edge of the bed and landed on his backside with a loud thud. Akira opened his eyes at the sound of the commotion and crawled over to look down at the blond on the floor, adjusting his nose band that had slipped slightly while he slept.

 

“Takanori,” he said in a gruff voice. “Are you alright? Jesus Christ, you’re like a walking accident zone.”

 

“What the hell was that?!” The little blond yelled, breathing heavily and staring with horror-stricken eyes.

 

“What the hell was what?” Akira asked as he scratched the back of his head, yawning.

 

“That!” Takanori pointed at the bed. “Just then I was… You were…”

 

Akira held his hands up defensively as he understood what the second year was so freaked out all of a sudden. “Hey, that wasn’t me. You’re the one who rolled onto me.”

 

Takanori couldn’t believe it. Had he really done that? He did have a tendency to hug a pillow in a similar fashion while he slept; so that could explain it. “But, you’re hand in my…” He brought his own hand up to rest in his hair. He could still feel where Akira’s fingers had rested in the most comforting manner. It’d been so long since he’d been that close with anyone. It felt nice… Takanori shook his head, banishing anymore thoughts of that sort. Takanori had definitely _not_ been enjoying it.

 

“Ah, that…” Akira trailed off. He shrugged his shoulders, “Where else was I meant to put my hand? You’d occupied any other place it could go.”

 

The elder boy brushed it off as if it was nothing and Takanori couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of hurt in his chest. It wasn’t an affectionate gesture at all. Not that he’d wanted it to be in the first place. “Well,” he began. “Don’t do it again.”

 

Takanori shifted onto his knees and began to stand up, only to tumble back to the ground again when he put pressure on his injured foot. “Ah, fuck,” he hissed as he put his hand on the bandage.

 

“Are you alright?” Akira asked, getting off the bed and crouching beside him. “Here,” the tall blond held the younger boy by the elbow and helped him to his feet before he could protest.

 

“I’m fine,” Takanori snapped and pushed Akira’s hand off his arm. “Just… don’t touch me,” his eyes were downcast as he spoke and he tested pressing a little bit of pressure on his foot. Without another word Takanori began to hobble out of the room, trying to put as little weight on his injured foot as possible.

 

Arriving at the door to his studio Takanori pushed the door open and locked it behind him. Taking a seat in his chair he rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands. “What the hell was that?” He mumbled to himself, banging the heels of his hands against his temples a few times. Trying to level out his breathing, the little blond brought a slightly trembling hand up to his chest, feeling his rapidly beating heart. Why had something so insignificant affected him is such a drastic way? What was going on with him? There was no way Takanori was starting to like Akira…

 

Not a fucking chance.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.

After Takanori left, Akira plopped back down on the bed with a sigh. Of course he’d known the younger boy would react that way. But seeing it actually happen still left a small sting radiating through his chest. With his head cradled in one of his hands which leaned on his knee, Akira forced a heavy sigh. How had he gotten himself into this situation? When had things changed? When had such a seemingly insignificant little blond squeezed his way into Akira’s life and turned it completely upside down?

 

Standing up, Akira left Takanori’s room and trudged downstairs. There seemed to be no sign of the second year as he entered the main foyer. Perhaps he’d slipped into one of the many rooms Akira hadn’t seen yet; he didn’t blame the kid. He must have gotten quite a shock waking up like that.

 

Akira reached the front door where he’d carelessly dropped his school bag the night before. Hoping his phone hadn’t run out of battery yet, he crouched down and rummaged through the almost empty bag, finding it easily. He flipped it open and was relieved to see the screen light up. He walked back and took a seat on the bottom step of the elegant carpeted staircase ready to make a few calls and do some explaining.

 

***

 

After Takanori felt he’d finally calmed, down he pulled himself out of his desk chair and limped, rather slowly, out of his recording studio and back into the dim hallway. The sun had almost completely set outside and he put his hand over his stomach as it growled loudly. ‘ _Ugh_ ’, he thought with a sigh. ‘ _I’m so hungry_ and _I’m going to have to cook for that stupid birdbrain as well_.’

 

As he neared the staircase Takanori heard the distinct sound of Akira’s baritone voice coming from the foyer. What was he doing down there? It sounded like he was on the phone, because there was no one in the house he could possibly talk to besides Takanori. He knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but the nosey little blond couldn’t help it. His curious side got the better of him as he drew closer to the staircase. Poking his head around the corner he saw the third year student sitting on the bottom step with his, crappy compared to Takanori’s brand new iPhone, flip-top phone pressed up against his ear. The conversation drifted up to Takanori’s ears as he moved further into the open and leaned against the mahogany railing at the very top of the staircase.

 

“Hey, mum. It’s me,” he began, sounding apologetic already. The tall blond paused, obviously listening to his mother talk at him through the receiver. “I know, mum. I’m really sorry I didn’t call you until now.” A pause. “There’s no need to worry, mum. I’m just at a friend’s place.” ‘ _A friend?’_ Takanori frowned. ‘ _Since when was I considered to be Akira’s friend?_ ’ Shaking off the comment, Takanori listen back in as Akira started talking again. “Mum. I’m going to stay here for a while. My friend he… he’s going through something and I need to be here with him.” Pause. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here. Maybe a few days. Maybe a few weeks. But I can’t leave now.” Pause. “Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure my school work gets done and everything.” Pause. “Thanks for understanding, mum. You’re the best. How’s Koyuki? Is she going ok at school? I’m sorry I can’t be there to help you out…”

 

Takanori didn’t stick around to listen to the rest of Akira’s conversation with his mother. The little blond retreated back to his bedroom as quickly as he could. As he went he felt a strange strangling tightness in his chest; like a hand was firmly squeezing his heart. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make it uncomfortable. The feeling didn’t subside as he swung open his bedroom door and trudged inside, dropping himself back on his bed.

 

What was this feeling? Takanori clutched at the shirt above his heart and lay down on his back, picking up a pillow and covering his face with it. Who was this new Akira? What was this playfulness, this caring, this kindness, this concern? This wasn’t the Akira Takanori knew. This wasn’t like any person Takanori had ever known. It was frightening. Being treated like a precious antique vase, like he was something to be cherished and protected. No one had ever treated him with such raw kindness. Ever. No one had ever stuck around long enough to try and figure him out; try and find out more. The little blond decided, in that moment, that he was sick and tired of being alone. He’d been alone all his life, not really cared for, not really looked after. And suddenly, here was someone who was _willing_ to force his way into Takanori’s life, to force an explanation out of him, to force him to open up. Takanori dreaded what Akira would think of him if he heard the second year’s full story. He thought that, maybe, the third year would pity him and he didn’t want that. But deep down inside, he knew he wanted to try. He knew that, for once in his life, he wanted to let someone in. He wanted someone to understand, to know how he really felt. He wanted someone to know _him_ ; the real Takanori and not that distorted version of himself that he showed everyone.

 

Maybe he was no different from those clones all along. He had been hiding parts of himself. He was open and comfortable with his appearance and he wasn’t afraid to wear makeup, dress the way he wanted and openly say that, yes, he was gay. But he still hid his real emotions away under lock and key, deep, deep down inside himself. Maybe Akira would be the person to finally figure him out, because Akira – that dumb, useless, birdbrained idiot – was _willing_ to delve past the surface and search the darkness underneath.

 

Takanori’s raging thoughts were interrupted when the door opened again and he heard the sound of bare feet shuffling into the room and then the door shut again. The little blond didn’t lift the pillow off his face nor did the hand clutching his shirt loosen, if anything, it tightened slightly. He really had no idea how to approach Akira anymore and he was terrified about trying to confront his suppressed emotions and desires.

 

“Oi, midget,” he heard Akira’s voice closer than he’d expected it to be. It sounded like it was right next to his ear and he couldn’t help but jump a little at the sound of its closeness. “You trying to suffocate yourself or something?” Suddenly the pillow was snatched away from him, revealing his frowning face.

 

“Give that back!” He snapped as he sat up, finally letting go of his shirt, and looked at the blond who was knelt right next to his bed.

 

Akira chuckled, “I don’t think so.” The third year moved his arm backwards as Takanori tried to snatch at the pillow.

 

Takanori growled. “You’re such an arsehole. Why can’t you just leave me alone?” The little blond almost winced after the words left his mouth. ‘ _There I go again_ ’, he thought. ‘ _Pushing him away_ ’. As much as he wanted to let the third year in, it had just become a natural instinct for him to push people away.

 

The smirk on Akira’s face seemed to drop slightly as he thought about a possible answer. The pair remained quiet for a new moments and Takanori realised that Akira was planning on answering his question seriously. He guessed that was ok, seeing as he _did_ want to know why Akira sought answers so desperately. Slowly the blond third year stood up and made his way around to the other side of the bed and sat down beside Takanori, looking at him with a serious expression.

 

“It’s funny, you know?” The corner of Akira’s mouth twitched up slightly as he began, not shifting his intense gaze off Takanori. “I have no idea why I can’t leave you alone.” The little blond frowned slightly. That made no sense at all. Maybe Akira really _had_ swallowed something from the medical kit when he’d been tending to the second year’s wounds earlier. “But… I _do_ know that… I’ve _never_ felt so strongly about something in my life. I feel like I need to be here.”

 

Takanori stared in disbelief. Were his ears deceiving him? No, they weren’t. Akira had really just said that he needed to be there. Akira needed to be with Takanori. The tight feeling in the little blond’s chested flared up again and he brought his hand up to clutch at his shirt again, squeezing the fabric in a tight fist.

 

Akira leaned forward slightly, raising his hand, and Takanori flinched slightly as he squeezed his eyes shut. The only time the third year had ever raised his hand before was when he had intended to deliver a punch to Takanori’s face. “It’s alright,” Akira reassured him as he dropped his hand a little, pausing his movements, and Takanori relaxed ever so slightly, opening his eyes again. Lifting his hand again, Akira chuckled and brushed Takanori fringe away from his face, fingertips lightly brushing against his cheek. “You’re blushing, you know that, right?”

 

Takanori’s eyes widened as he quickly withdrew from the gentle touch and covered his face with his hands, turning away. Akira’s booming laughter rose into the still air of the bedroom as he wrapped a hand around Takanori’s arm, just below the wrist, and tugged.

 

“Don’t be shy.” The tall blond chuckled and tugged again, trying to draw Takanori’s small hands away from his face.

 

“Go away,” the little blond’s voice drifted out, muffled by his hands.

 

“Come on, Taka,” he said. “I was just kidding.”

 

Takanori froze, dropping his hands into his lap. He turned and looked at Akira, a look of disbelief evident across his face. “What did you just call me?” His usually confident voice came out quiet and hesitant.

 

A little frown creased Akira’s brow. “I called you Taka.”

 

Takanori blinked and looked down at the covers of the bed. A nickname? A _real_ nickname? He’d never had one of those before; but somehow, being referred to in such an affectionate way, made a warm fuzzy feeling spread through his chest. _Taka_ … He liked the sound of that and the way it rolled off Akira’s tongue sounded good too.

 

A few moments of silence passed until the second year looked back up at Akira who was still staring at him, awaiting any kind of reaction.

 

The little blond figured that it might be a good time to somehow inform Akira of his decision. “It must be nice, huh?” Takanori asked with a somewhat bitter smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

 

Akira blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. “Eh?”

 

Takanori huffed. “Being able to speak your mind so easily. It must be nice.”

 

The blond third year studied that younger boy for a moment. Was Takanori beginning to let him in? Even if it was just a fraction of a millimetre; was the little blond’s guard finally beginning to drop? Akira smiled, “It is nice, yeah. There are a lot of things I don’t say, though. But, you’re pretty vocal about what’s on your mind most of the time too.”

 

“No I’m not,” Takanori retorted swiftly. “If you’ve got a problem you’ll tell someone, won’t you?”

 

Akira nodded, wondering what the younger boy was getting at.

 

“I won’t. I don’t… I – I can’t…” Akira watched the other blond scrunch his nose up with the struggle to find the right words. He could tell Takanori was trying to be more open, even just a little. Akira could also tell that it was extremely hard for him.

 

“You’re not used to speaking up if something is wrong,” Akira predicted what the other boy was trying to say. Fairly accurately, it appeared, because Takanori looked at him and nodded. “That’s ok,” the third year shrugged. “I won’t force you to say anything. I’ll just stay here with you until you feel comfortable enough to let me in.”

 

Takanori dropped his eyes again and slowly nodded his head. “I…” He swallowed and took a deep breath. “I want to try… being more… open.”  The second year felt so stupid. He was never this shy; but it was the first time he’d ever been to close to telling anyone about himself. It was totally unexplored grounds for him, if he was being totally honest with himself, he was really petrified.

 

Akira smiled, “I’m glad to hear that.” A few moments passed and the third year stood up, walking back around the bed. He took hold of Takanori’s uninjured wristed and hauled him up onto his feet. “Come on! I’m starving.”

 

Takanori yelped when weight was suddenly pressed on his sore foot as he was unceremoniously pulled up. “Ouch! Be more careful, idiot. My foot still hurts.” Takanori swung his arm and delivered a punch to Akira’s upper arm, though he was fairly sure the impact didn’t hurt the well-built blond.

 

“Sorry!” Akira said as he dropped the little blond’s wrist. “Are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine,” Takanori brushed him off. Akira’s caring nature was still going to take some serious getting used to. “Just be more careful.”

 

The little blond started on his way to the door, limping on his almost useless foot. “You’re so slow.” Akira stepped up behind him and turned him around to face his official guest. All of a sudden Akira had bent over and lightly connected his shoulder with Takanori’s middle section and taken ahold of the back of his knees. The third year stood up straight again with the feather weight draped over his shoulder.

 

“Wha- Akira! Put me down, _you idiot_!” Takanori yelled as he kicked his legs and wriggled. “Oi! I said, put me down! I’m not some ragdoll you get to carry around at your will.”

 

“Shut up or I’ll drop you, midget,” Akira’s retorted, not making any movement to fulfil Takanori’s wish. The little blond continued to struggle, protesting to the somewhat rough treatment. “Stop squirming or I really _am_ going to drop you,” the tall blond warned.

 

Sighing, Takanori fell limp over Akira’s shoulder until they reached the kitchen. The second year squirmed and insisted on being put back down again which Akira’s thankfully complied with, setting him down one of the chairs tucked under the island table. Takanori watched as Akira darted around the kitchen, first cleaning up the smashed glass that was still on the floor from earlier in the day and mopping up the blood; then he proceeded to zip from cupboard to cupboard, opening one, closing it and then moving on to the next.

 

“What the hell are you doing?” Takanori asked as he leaned his elbows on the island countertop and rested his chin in a cupped hand.

 

“Familiarizing myself with things.” Akira didn’t even look at his blond host as he finally pulled open the fridge to examine its contents; luckily Takanori had just recently gone grocery shopping. “What do you want to eat?”

 

The little blond’s eyes widened. “Wait… _You’re_ going to cook?” Did that idiot even know how to turn on an oven? Takanori wasn’t sure if he would trust Akira with a knife either. Anything could go wrong.

 

“Of course I am,” Akira turned around to flash him a cocky grin and then faced the fridge again. “Now, what do you want?”

 

“You pick,” Takanori said nonchalantly as he examined the chipped black paint on his nails. He made a mental note to put another coat on later that night. He didn’t really care what Akira was going to make, as long as he got to eat soon.

 

Akira stood with the door of the fridge open, a small frown creasing his brow as he examined the foods that lined the shelves. He recognized most of the vegetables, though he hated the disgusting things so there was no way he’d even consider using them. He studied some of the jars and his frown deepened. ‘ _How does he read this shit?_ ’ He wondered; the labels were all in English. ‘ _Does he speak English?_ ’ He let out a sigh of defeat. Did Akira know how to cook? No, not at all. But he knew he had to try; he had to pay Takanori back for letting him stay.

 

In the end, the tall blond grabbed a few jars off on of the shelves and pulled open the freezer, finding some beef mince, and placed the ingredients on the countertop. Spinning around, he opened the walk-in pantry and took a few spice jars out, a carton of beef stock and a few packets of noodles. Hopefully he’d be able to concoct something that was, at the very least, edible.

 

Akira unwrapped the beef mince, placed it on a plate and put it in the microwave; turning the device on to defrost the meat. Filling up a pot with water and putting it on the stove to boil he returned to the countertop to examine what he had taken out, wondering what he could possibly do with everything.

 

Meanwhile, Takanori sat picking at his nails. Yep, they definitely needed a new coat and maybe he could do his toenails as well; they could probably do with a touch-up. The sound of the microwave starting up brought him out of his trance and he looked up to find Akira staring down at the countertop in a state of bewilderment. Takanori glanced down at what had been removed from his fridge and almost fell off his chair. What the hell was Akira going to do with all that stuff?

 

“You can’t cook, can you, birdbrain?” He asked as he stood up from his spot at the island and hobbled over beside his blond senior.

 

“Uhm…” Akira scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Not really, no. My mum does all the cooking at home. So I never really learned.”

 

Takanori rolled his eyes, “Well, for starters, you can’t use all of this stuff. These are capers–” he held up one jar– “And this is blueberry jam” –he held up another– “Do you know how disgusting they would taste together?”

 

“It’s not my fault,” Akira protested. “The labels are in English, I couldn’t read them.”

 

“You could’ve just asked me what they said,” the little blond pointed out, putting the two jars back in the fridge. He continued putting away all the unnecessary things Akira had gotten out. It looked like he was going to have to cook dinner himself.

 

“You can read English?” the third year enquired.

 

“I can,” Takanori nodded. “What’ve you got in the microwave?”

 

“Uh, beef mince. Why?”

 

“Beef mince…” the second year mumbled to himself, “What can I do with beef mince…? Ah! That’s it!” He paced back to the pantry and pulled out all the necessary ingredients he’d need.

 

“What do you think you’re doing? I told you I’d cook,” Akira protested. “You’re hurt, you need to sit and rest.” His complaints fell on deaf ears as the smaller boy continued rooting through the pantry. “Taka, are you listening to me? Sit back down.”

 

Takanori strode back to the countertop with a new arm full of ingredients. “Stop telling me what to do. We’ll starve if I let you cook. So just shut up and let me do my thing, or I swear to God I _will_ cut out your tongue with a butcher’s knife.”

 

Akira fell silent; wandering over to the seat his blond host had been in a few minutes ago. “So…” He started he watched the other boy take out a knife and begin dicing an onion with a surprising amount of skill. “Can you speak English as well as read it?” When he received a nod he moved forward with the conversation. “Where did you learn?”

 

Takanori’s movements faltered slightly and the knife hesitated as he paused. “… My mother taught me.”

 

“Oh really? She speaks English too? That’s really cool,” the elder blond was completely oblivious to the other boy’s hesitation. “How did she learn?” Akira finally looked up when Takanori sighed and he noticed that the little blond had stopped chopping up the onion. Oh no, had he struck a chord? “It’s alright. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I mean, I was just-”

 

“No,” Takanori cut him off. “No, it’s ok. I said I was going to try being more open wasn’t I? May as well start off with answering simple questions, right?”

 

He had a point; it was a good idea to start out slowly. Akira wanted to ease him into the whole thing, not force the younger boy to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets straight off the bat. That would only result in being shut out all over again and Akira certainly didn’t want that after the amount of progress he’d already made. Simple questions would definitely be the way to go.

 

Resuming his chopping, Takanori focused on the blade of the knife as he spoke. “My mother is from England. That’s why I know English.”

 

“No way! Really?” Akira’s mouth hung open in pure astonishment. “You don’t look like you have any European influence at all.” Takanori was silent as he continued cutting, moving on to the garlic he’d pulled out, as he frowned deeply. Ok, this time Akira had definitely struck a nerve. He could tell because the little blond was beginning to hack at the garlic as if it had done him some great offence. The tall third year figured he’d have to be more careful with what he said.

 

“Hey, Taka, try not to completely annihilate that garlic,” the blond third year joked, trying to lighten the mood a little. But apparently the second year student wasn’t listening because all he did was continue his harsh treatment. Akira stood up and wandered over to his side, leaning on the countertop. “Oi cut it out, would you?” But still, Takanori hacked away at the garlic, totally ignoring the elder blond. “Taka. Stop.” Akira spoke firmly. “Takanori, I said stop it!” Akira grabbed the younger boy’s arm, halting his movements.

 

“Let go of me!” Takanori let the knife fall out of his hand and wrenched it away from Akira’s grip with so much force, he had to take a step back to steady himself which resulted in him putting too much weight on his sore foot. He toppled backwards, landing with a _thud_ on the cold tile.

 

“Taka, are you alright?” Surprised by the younger boy’s sudden outburst, Akira bent down with his hand outstretched, looking to help the other boy back to his feet.

 

“No!” Takanori shouted. “I’m fine. Just… don’t look at me,” he whispered the last part with his hand covering his eyes as he turned his head away.

 

“Taka…”

 

“I said _don’t_ , Akira,” he said as he held out his spare had in a signal for the elder blond not to come any closer. The only thing going through Takanori’s mind at the time was ‘ _Don’t. Don’t let him see you like this. Don’t let him see you so weak and helpless._ ’

 

“Takanori,” Akira spoke gently as he kneeled on the ground in front of the cowering blond. “It’s alright, you know? Whatever it is, don’t hide it. I’m sorry if I said anything that upset you.” Akira watched as Takanori slowly dropped his outstretched hand back into his lap as a sob shook his small frame. The tall blond’s brow creased and he cautiously moved forward. Kneeling right next to the trembling blond he slowly wrapped his arms around the smaller boy’s shoulders and brought him into a warm embrace. “I’m sorry, Taka.” Takanori sobbed again as he moved his face to fit snuggly against the tall blond’s well-built chest. “Shh. I’m sorry.” Slowly, Akira began to stroke his fingers through those silky blond strands in attempt to comfort.

 

After a few minutes Takanori’s sobbing had calmed down a considerable amount. Akira finally drew back, placing his hands on the little blond’s shoulders so he could look into his eyes. Takanori sniffled and slowly but surely looked up at the third year through his choppy fringe. His eyes were red and slightly swollen from crying and tears stained his cheeks, but he felt much better. No one had ever seen Takanori cry. He’d never had someone to hug him and stroke his hair when he cried. No one was ever there when Takanori cried. So it felt nice to finally be able to release his emotions in front of another person. It was also the first time he’d let emotions overtake him outside of his recording studio. It was a foreign feeling to be outside the confines of his safe place; but he somehow knew that Akira provided some kind of safe place as well.

 

“Feeling better?” Akira asked with a soft smile as he brought his hand up to brush a stray tear away.

 

Takanori nodded somewhat shyly, though he’d never admit that. “Yeah… Thanks.”

 

“No problem,” Akira’s smile grew slightly. “Now, why don’t we finish cooking? You can show me what to do. I think it’s about time I learned, right?”

 

Nodding again, Takanori let his guest help him to his feet. Together they resumed cooking dinner, though this time they did it in silence. However it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Takanori found it relaxing and it meant he didn’t have to risk another minor emotional breakdown, which he wasn’t fond of in the slightest. The little blond could already feel himself growing used to having Akira around…

 

… Even if he _was_ as stupid, birdbrained idiot and a pain in the arse most of the time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.

It was late on Sunday night. He knew he shouldn’t have been outside. He knew that. But he needed out. He needed to get out of the house, despite the bitter cold and the howling wind. It was far colder that night than it had been so far. He couldn’t take it anymore; it was all too painful for him to watch. His parents were fighting again, a constant never ending argument over money. He knew it was all his fault. If he hadn’t been cursed like he was then everything would be fine and he wouldn’t have to feel such an all-consuming sadness every time he returned home from school to find his parents absent. Silence was fine. Silence he could deal with. But when his parents came home and the fighting picked up right where it had left off the night before, there was no stopping the guilt that flooded through his mind, pulsed through his veins. It was draining; too draining.

 

Sitting on the park bench, Aoi stared out over the slightly frosted grass as he wondered what exactly he was to do. There was no way to make the fighting go away and there was no way to make his curse go away either. He was totally and utterly helpless; left to endure the never ending torture of his parent’s nasty, seemingly hate-filled jabs at each other. He was forced to endure a heart that only half functioned. Everything seemed meaningless when he couldn’t live his life the way he wanted to.

 

 Aoi’s only solace was Kouyou. That beautiful blond boy who’d clumsily stumbled into his worthless life. The one who would take the time to understand him and bear with him. The one who would comfort him and hold him and care for him.  Kouyou was like the patch for the hole in his heart; when he was with the boisterous blond he felt like his heart was finally whole and it could beat properly. Kouyou was his life-line. That all-important string that kept him from completely falling apart. Kouyou was his saviour.

 

_The beeping of the machine and the sliding of the plain white door was what roused Aoi form his uneasy sleep. The overnight check-up had been exactly as it had always been. The doctors told him exactly what they’d been telling him for years and the nurses always treated him the same; as if he was made of porcelain. Aoi really hated it. He hated being babied and fussed over. He wished people would just leave him alone, he already felt weak and helpless enough; he didn’t need anyone else’s help in that respect._

_“Yuu…” His mother’s voice entered his now conscious mind. That name. That hideous name. No matter how many times he asked, his parents refused to call him by the name he wanted. They insisted on the one that was associated with that small weak creature. The one that was easily overworked and could end up writhing on the floor in pain at any given moment._

_The curtains had long ago been drawn shut and the lights turned out, leaving the usually bright white room in total darkness. Aoi supposed it helped him. Shutting everything out with darkness helped to get rid of the horrible feeling of sickness and death that the white walls held. Light from the hallway was the only source of brightness that lit the shadowed room, making it difficult to actually see his mother’s face clearly. Though Aoi knew that if he could see it properly it would look worn out and tired. She looked so much older than she should; worry lines creased her forehead and dark circles made her eyes look empty and void of any emotion but sorrow. Aoi knew without a doubt that, as soon as she got him home, she would leave for her second job. The raven teenager knew it was his entire fault that this was happening. His stupid weakness was the only thing that kept his parents from living happily and Aoi knew he could never forgive himself._

_“Yuu, sweetheart,” his mother called when she didn’t get a response. “It’s time to go home.”_

_“Why?” Aoi finally spoke. “Why should I? So you and dad can fight some more? So you can work harder?”_

_“Yuu… what are you-”_

_“I’m tired of this, mum,” Aoi sighed as he looked away from his mother and to the slim pale hands of his that lay curled in his lap. He was sick of it all; having to endure so much torture. It was more than any 15 year old should have to put up with. “Why can’t you just… I don’t know… give me up for adoption or something? That way you and dad can live happily.”_

_“What are you talking about, Yuu?” Aoi’s mother was at his bedside in an instant, taking his hand into hers and squeezing it gently as a look of sheer horror crossed her tired features. “Why would you ever say that? Your father and I love you.”_

_Aoi scowled and turned his head away. “Aren’t you sick of having to work two jobs and fighting with dad all the time?”_

_“Well… yes…” She hesitated and Aoi felt a bitter hatred bubbling up inside him. Not hatred for his parents. No, he could never ever hate them. They were the ones who worked so hard to keep him alive and somewhat healthy. The hatred he felt was for himself. Always, always for himself._

_“Then why don’t you just stop all of this? It’s useless anyway…” Aoi trailed off as he pulled his hand away from his mother’s light grip._

_“Yuu… your father and I do this because we love you and we only want the best for you. We want you to be happy and healthy…” If only she knew how **unhappy** Aoi really was. “… So, please, Yuu. Don’t say things like that to me. It really upsets me and I’m sure it’d upset your father too.” _

_There, he’d gone and done it again. It seemed as if everything he did and said upset or disappointed his parents somehow. He was the epitome of a walking, talking disappointment. Purpose was something he really felt he lacked. What was he living for? What was important to him? That answer to that was simple… Nothing._

_Reluctantly, Yuu got up out of the stiff hospital sheets, the stupid things always made him itch, and packed up what little possessions he’d brought in to keep himself occupied. Aoi followed his mother out of the room and into the too bright hallway. Doctors and nurses bustled around them, a few of them seeming to be in a big rush to get somewhere. Though Aoi really had no care for other matters, he remained a few paces behind his mother._

_Suddenly, a door to his left was slid open and a young boy was dragged out kicking and screaming and making one hell of a fuss, successfully gaining almost everyone’s attention. With only a quick glance at the boy Aoi’s mother kept walking, but the young raven slowed to a stop and watched the whole scene unfold before him._

_The boy’s face was contorted in an ugly snarl as he lashed out at one of the doctors, attempting to knock the white-coat over. However his arm was seized by other man in white. Long blond hair swished fiercely as the boy kicked and screamed, attempting to gain access back into the room he’d come from. Aoi hadn’t seen what was in the room, but he made a fair assumption that it was something very important to the fired up blond. At first Aoi couldn’t make out what he was screaming about, but as he listened more closely he could it pick up…_

_“AKARI!! LET GO FO ME, YOU ARSEHOLES!” The boy was howling, his voice becoming rawer and rawer by the second. “LET ME IN! LET ME SEE HER!”  A loud sob wracked the blond boy’s frame as he fought against the three doctors that were holding onto him. “No… Akari…” One of the doctors quickly let go of the boy and locked the door to the room, slipping the key into his pocket. Finally deciding that it was safe to let the blond go once there was no way into the room, the doctors couldn’t seem to care less about him. They just disappeared leaving him in the hallway outside the room he’d been banned from entering. He wailed and pressed his hands against the door as he slid to his knees. He kept mumbling to himself as he leaned his forehead against the door, heart wrenching sobs shaking his lithe frame._

_It was only when Aoi drew closer that he could hear what the boy was saying…_

_“Aka… ri… I’m so sorry.” He sobbed uncontrollably. “Sorry… So… So sorry…”_

_Aoi didn’t really know what to do. He’d never ever seen anyone break down like that. So he stood and stared, completely awestruck. This boy was making such a scene yet he couldn’t care less because someone he loved dearly was locked behind that door and he couldn’t get in. ‘_ That, _’ Aoi though, ‘_ Is what real love is. _’ Not once had his parents shown that much emotion and seeing that boy made the raven wonder if his parents even loved him at all. Would they react the same way if something bad were to happen to him?_

_Movement from across the hall caught the raven teenager’s eye. The blond boy’s wailing had calmed down to loud sobs as he turned himself around and sat with his back pressed up against the door. His eyes were screwed tightly shut as he tried to even out his breathing. Slowly, all that was left were the tears that refused to stop and the shuddering of his skinny frame. When he finally opened his eyes he noticed Aoi standing across the hall._

_“What the hell are you staring at?” Aoi was sure the blond boy’s voice was meant to sound somewhat intimidating, but it ended up coming out weak and broken. All of a sudden, the raven boy felt a surge of empathy. He understood this boy’s pain, even if he had no idea what it was. As he stared, he had witnessed everything he’d wished to do for so many years. This blond boy had given the most perfect depiction of the raging emotions in him and he couldn’t help but feel his heart soften a little. It almost felt as if the blond had alleviated some of Aoi’s emotions for him._

_Cautiously, Aoi moved forward to crouch just in front of the blond. Now that he wasn’t crying anymore the raven could see how good-looking the other boy really was. He had beautiful hazel tinted eyes that seemed to glimmer under the florescent of the hallway. His nose was angled and petit. His lips formed the oddest most beautiful shape Aoi had ever seen. This blond boy’s features, though stained with salty tears, were so completely captivating._

_“What’s your name?” Aoi spoke softly as he studied the blond._

_The other boy frowned as he sniffled, wiping at his tears with the back of his hand. “… What?”_

_“You’re name,” Aoi repeated._

_“… Kouyou.”_

_“Kouyou,” the raven repeated. He liked that. It was simple, but rolled off his tongue so naturally; like he was meant to say it. He offered a small smile, “I’m Aoi… Would you like to go somewhere with me?”_

Aoi opened his eyes to gaze back out over the dark park. The day he met Kouyou was the most magical day of his life, even though the other had been in total hysterics. Aoi could still the see the kind, beautiful person that lay beneath and he felt like Kouyou had brought out the same qualities in him. He no longer felt alone. No longer did he feel like he had nothing to live for. Because now he did. He had Kouyou.

 

The blond had never told him why he was at the hospital that day. He was able to gather that Akari was someone who was very dear to his special blond, and he also knew that Kouyou blamed himself for what had happened to the girl. But that was all he knew, and he was fine with that. Aoi didn’t need an explanation; he was willing to wait until Kouyou was ready to talk. Even though it had been more than a year since that happened the blond still found it too difficult to talk about what had happened, so Aoi didn’t push.

 

“Aoi?” A gentle voice from behind him jolted the raven out of his deeply pensive state. He knew that voice. It was one that brought him so much comfort. He needn’t turn around to know who it belonged to. The boy sat down beside him on the wooden bench and slung an extra jacket over his slim shoulders. “I went by your house but no one was there… So I figured I’d find you here. Are your parents working again tonight?”

 

Aoi leaned his head against Kouyou’s shoulder as the blond slithered his arm around the raven’s shoulders, bringing their bodies closer together. “No,” he breathed. “They were fighting again… I can’t stand being in the house when they’re like that.”

 

“Oh, Aoi,” Kouyou mumbled as he turned and brought the raven into a tight hug. He knew how difficult it was for his beautiful raven. His parents fought so often it was difficult for him to get any quiet time. Kouyou felt Aoi thread his own thin arms around the blond’s waist, burying his face into the crook of his neck. The blond reached up to comfortingly stroke the other boy’s hair, softly pulling his long fingers through the silky raven tendrils. “Do you want to stay at my house tonight?”

 

Without verbalizing it, Aoi gave his answer by nodding. Staying at Kouyou’s house was something he did often. He kept a bag of clothes there, which included a spare school uniform, a fresh change of clothes and a pair of pyjamas. Whenever he couldn’t handle being at home Aoi would trudge his way over to Kouyou’s house and knock on the window. Not that they needed to be secretive, Kouyou’s parents already knew about the raven; but Aoi wanted to avoid as much human contact as possible at those times. Kouyou’s parents were lovely people but a lot of the time they were overly chatty, and when Aoi showed up after a difficult time at home the last thing he wanted was to be whipped into another one of Mrs Takashima’s verbal frenzies. So he much preferred the window as opposed to the front door.

 

“Alright…” Kouyou whispered, continuing to stroke Aoi’s hair lovingly. “We should go, then. It’s cold out here.” Aoi nodded again and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

 

With their hands clasped tightly together, Kouyou running his thumb over the back of the raven’s hand in small circles offering any possible comfort he could, the pair slowly began to make their way towards the blond’s house. Aoi was grateful. Grateful that he’d met someone who understood him. Someone who wouldn’t baby him and treat him like some fragile piece on antique crockery. Someone who would stand by him no matter what. Aoi was incredibly grateful.

 

***

 

Akira was rudely awoken by the obnoxious ringing of his phone’s alarm clock. With a groan he sat up and leaned over to turn off the infernal racket. The covers fell down, leaving the blond’s bare chest open for the cold, and instantly he felt goosebumps rising on his skin. Shivering, he quickly scrambled out of bed, adjusting the baggy sweatpants Takanori had lent him. Well… they were baggy on the little second year but they fit Akira quite well.

 

The pair of blonds had spent the previous day rather leisurely. Akira had discovered the impressive collection of video games Takanori possessed and had apparently never played, plus the basically untouched PlayStation 3. The tall blond had been more than impressed, questioning Takanori as to why he’d never even bothered to play any of the games. All the small blond did was shrug his shoulders dismissively and go back to scribbling in that little black book a he always carried around with him. The one Akira had read the lyrics from…

 

The blond second year couldn’t help but wonder why that book was so important. What other secrets lay in its worn pages? He wanted to know if it was like some kind of journal or if it was purely for lyrics. He had to admit, the lyrics he’d read from it were rather impressive. A gift of words was definitely something Takanori possessed; the words on that page were nothing short of powerful. But, much to the elder blond’s dismay, he assumed Takanori would never show him more because that book seemed to be something that was so incredibly personal for the younger boy; and Takanori wasn’t the type to really let people in and know the kinds of things he probably wrote on those pages.

 

Akira’s burning curiosity had taken over when he’d grabbed the PlayStation controller and taken a seat on the bed next to the younger student. Shuffling around until he was comfortably sitting with his back leaned up against the headboard Akira let his shoulder lightly come into contact with Takanori’s, the bare skin revealed by the singlet that had been lent to him and the material of the second year’s black sweater lightly brushing together. If Takanori had noticed the contact he certainly didn’t acknowledge it; he just continued writing, occasionally tipping his head back and bringing the end of his pencil to his plush lips before scribbling down another phrase of words.

 

Slowly Akira had leaned over, attempting to peer over Takanori’s shoulder. All he caught was a glimpse of the little blond’s messy scribbles, things obviously being scratched out and then replaced by other words, before the book was flipped shut and Takanori was glaring up at him. Akira just smiled sheepishly before loading the game he’d shoved into the gaming console. After a couple of moments of scrutinizing Akira the little blond had returned to his scribbling, leaving their shoulders in contact.

 

It had turned out that Takanori couldn’t deal with sleeping on the floor again so he’d put Akira in a room of his own, just across the hallway form the second year. It was more convenient for both of them, really. Except he had forgotten he’d left his freshly washed uniform in Takanori’s room. With a quiet groan he slipped out of bed and tiptoed towards his bedroom door, opening it and then shuffling across the hallway to the familiar door to the little blond’s bedroom.

 

Knocking quietly Akira leaned in and listened for any signal of movement from the other side, shuffling of feet or maybe the rustle of bed covers. There was nothing. He knocked again, this time a little louder, “Hey, Taka. You in there? I need to get my uniform…” Still nothing. Akira huffed in annoyance, knowing he was just going to have to walk in.

 

Slowly, the tall blond creaked open the door, poking his head in and directing his attention towards the king sized bed. A frown crossed Akira’s features when he noticed that Takanori wasn’t there. Scanning his eyes around the dark room the third years gaze fell upon the closed bathroom door, a sliver of light escaping from underneath it and Akira could only assume that Takanori was behind the door. His assumptions were confirmed in the next moment when he heard the sound of the shower starting up, the spray of water hitting against the tiles on the floor.

 

Quietly Akira navigated his way through the room, almost tripping when he bumped into the corner of the little blond’s ridiculously large bed. The third year couldn’t help but wonder if such a huge bed was really necessary for someone so small. Finally he reached the desk where his school uniform was neatly folded and waiting for him. But just as he reached it Akira heard a noise come from behind the bathroom door. The first time he didn’t really pay the sounds much mind, but then he heard it again. Slowly, the tall blond crept over to the door Takanori was situated behind and pressed his ear against it. What if the clumsy kid had slipped over or something and hurt himself?

 

But as he listened for the sound again Akira realised that it didn’t sound like a pained noise. It came again, muffled by the wood of the door, but the blond was able to catch it a little more clearly now. It almost sounded like a…

 

“ _Mmm…_ ”

 

… Like a moan.

 

“ _Oh… Fuck…_ ”

 

Akira’s eyes widened when he realised what the sounds were. No way… Was Takanori…?

 

“ _Ah! Oh… god…_ ”

 

Yep, he definitely was. The sounds were becoming progressively louder and even though the shower was running and there was a door between them, Akira could hear the second year loud and clear. His heart began to speed up. ‘ _Holy shit_ ,’ Akira thought as he clutched the material of his uniform in a tight grip. He knew he needed to get out. _Fast_. So as silently as he could, he tiptoed out of Takanori’s room and back across to his own.

 

Slamming the door shut, Akira slipped down to the floor, his heart pounding and his palms sweating slightly. He supposed he couldn’t blame Takanori. After all, it _had_ been a good few days since Akira himself had jerked off. He’d definitely felt the urge to, he was a teenage boy after all; but he knew he couldn’t with the other boy around. But hearing Takanori in the shower had pushed him over the edge and the more he tried to _not_ think about him, the more he did. He tried as hard as he could not to imagine the petite blond standing underneath the running water of the shower, beads of hot water cascading down over his porcelain skin as his hand reached down to stroke his…

 

“Fuck…” Akira groaned as he squeezed his eyes shut, attempting in vain to banish the lecherous images from his mind. But the male anatomy wouldn’t let him. Things just didn’t work that way and when he glanced down he registered that he was, indeed, already semi-hard.

 

Dropping the clean uniform to the floor next to him, Akira moved a hand to rub over the clothed bulge in his pants. Yep, there was no going back now. It’d been too long and he’d become too sexually frustrated. So he guessed it was best to just get it over and done with as quick as he could. The blond would very much like to avoid any awkward situation if Takanori were to come knocking on his door. Dipping a hand into the black sweat pants Akira pulled them down to hook them underneath his balls so they wouldn’t get in the way. He groaned again as took hold of his dick, giving a languid few strokes in order to coax himself to full harness.

 

“Oh, shit…” He breathed as he gripped his now fully hard cock a little tighter, increasing the speed of his tugs. His eyes slipped closed has he leaned his head back against the wooden door, lips slightly parted to let out quiet groans every now and then. As he worked his stiff length, Akira thought of Takanori in the other room doing the exact same thing to himself. In his mind’s eye, Akira could see Takanori leaning against the wall of the shower rapidly stroking himself, occasionally flicking his thumb over the head of his cock on the upstroke. Lewd moans left the little blonds plush, glossy lips, steadily rising in pitch as he pleasured himself. The image was so beyond sexy it was almost sinful, and as Akira did exactly what Takanori had done in his fantasy, flicking his thumb over the head, the third year felt an all too familiar heat pooling in the pit of his stomach, alerting him that he wasn’t too far from release. Akira imagined Takanori calling out the tall blond’s name as he increased the speed of his pulls yet again, bringing himself closer and closer towards the edge. As the blond imagined Takanori finally reaching his climax as he shouted Akira’s name, the third year finally reached his own orgasm, his warm seed dirtying his lower abdomen as he let out a particularly long low groan.

 

Slumping down slightly, Akira let his muscles relax. His breath came in short little pants. Had he really just done that? Did he really just jerk off to images of Takanori doing the exact same thing to images of Akira? The third year supposed he was in deeper than he’d originally imagined. Not only did he like Takanori, thoughts of the second year masturbating turned him on immensely. What would Takanori say if he knew?

 

After a few moments to regather his wits, Akira stood up and found a box of tissues to quickly clean himself up with. Acting as if nothing had happened, the blond quickly got changed into his school uniform and picked up the piece of cloth he always wore over his nose, tying it at the back of his head and adjusting it so it sat just right. It occurred to him that Takanori had never seen him without it on and he wondered why the little blond hadn’t even bother to ask what it was about. Sometimes Akira wished that Takanori was as interested in knowing about him as he was in knowing about Takanori. But he supposed that wasn’t the case. He was just a pain in the little blond’s arse. Like a bad smell, constantly hanging around. The thought disheartened Akira a bit; he’d like Takanori to ask questions, to want to know more. However, the lack of interest on the second year’s part didn’t make in want to give up. Not in the slightest. He would stay until he knew all the answers he’d set out to find.

 

Crossing the hallway again Akira hesitated before bringing his fist down on the wooden surface. This time the door did open, revealing a slightly dishevelled looking Takanori dressed in a messily thrown on uniform. He wasn’t wearing any makeup yet, nor had he done his hair and Akira assumed that once he was done with his little bathroom routine, he’d look just as captivating yet cold has he usually did. The third year had to admit, Takanori definitely had a softer, kinder looking face when it wasn’t clouded by makeup. Not that he looked bad with it on by any means; he just looked far more inviting when this way.

 

“Uh, morning…” Akira said as he scratched the back of his head. He couldn’t help but feel slightly awkward knowing that Takanori had no idea he’d been heard when he was in the shower earlier on and was totally oblivious to the effect it’d had on Akira.

 

“Hey,” the little blond replied. It was to be expected he supposed, the tall blond wasn’t looking for any spectacular greeting or anything. “What do you want?”

 

“How’s your foot?” Akira inquired, rather meekly.

 

Takanori gave him an odd look, the tall blond was acting weird. But he answered anyway, “It still hurts a bit, but I’ll live. Now, is that all you want? I have to finish getting ready.”

 

“Have you got any hair product I can use?” It was dumb question, Akira knew that. Of course Takanori would have hair product; but he thought it’d be polite to ask anyway.

 

The little blond studied him for a moment before nodding and stepping to the side, opening the door wide enough for Akira to walk through. “Yeah, come in.” Akira followed behind the short second year as he was led into the bathroom and things were pointed out to him. “Hair spray is there, hair gel and my hair straightener is plugged into the wall just there.”

 

Within the next hour both boys had finished getting ready for the day. Takanori’s eyes were shadowed by well-applied black eye shadow, a pair of light blue contact lenses hiding his natural hazel tinted orbs and his hair straightened and lightly teased. It was the way he always looked at school, but for some reason it was like Akira was seeing him in a new light. The small blond looked captivating. The way he licked his lightly glossed lips every few minutes made Akira want to lean over and place his own pair on them. Though, he got the feeling that if he did indeed follow through with that thought, he’d end up with a black eye and maybe a few broken bones which wasn’t a look he wasn’t too keen on sporting. So he held back, messing with his carefully spiked hair every now and then to keep himself distracted.

 

When the pair was almost at their school Takanori stopped and grabbed hold of Akira’s arm to stop him from walking off. The tall blond looked at the younger, a confused glint in his dark eyes. Quickly, the second year let go of the elder’s arm and looked away, appearing rather nonchalant.

 

“Stay away from me when we’re at school,” Takanori glanced down at his freshly painted ebony nails, seeming to admire the nice paint job he’d done on them the day before. The action had rather confused the third year seeing as painting his nails was something that had never even crossed his mind before.

 

Akira, in comparison to the second year’s dismissive attitude, was totally shocked by what Takanori had said. He stared at the younger boy in total awe, “What? What do you mean?”

 

“What do you think I mean dumbarse?” The small blond looked at Akira as if he was stupid and in Takanori eyes, the third year knew he probably was. “I mean… Stay. Away. From. Me.” He formed every word clearly, as if Akira had immense trouble understanding simple Japanese; which of course, he didn’t.

 

“But… why?” It was the obvious question, of course. Why would Takanori act almost nice when they were alone but then want to completely ignore Akira when they were at school? It just didn’t make sense in his mind. It made Akira feel like all of the progress he’d made since arriving at the second year’s doorstep the Friday before had been reduced back to zero. He felt as if he was all the way back at square one. With nothing but a cold, reclusive blond who wanted absolutely nothing to do with those around him. And Akira didn’t like that one bit.

 

Takanori rolled his eyes. “Come on, think, birdbrain…” The little blond waited for Akira to get it. But his silence indicated that he was _clearly_ too thick to understand. Takanori huffed an exasperated sigh as he explained. “If you and I walk through that front gate all buddy-buddy rumours are going to spread faster than the black plague. I don’t want that.”

 

“Why not? What’s wrong with us being friends?”

 

Takanori ran a small, ring clad hand through his styled hair, getting slightly frustrated by the elder’s constant questions. He couldn’t be _that_ dumb, could he? “Seriously, Akira… If people notice I’m friends with _you_ then they’re going to think its ok to talk to me. Which it’s not. I’m not here to make friends, Suzuki.”

 

Akira finally understood somewhat. Takanori wasn’t interested in getting to know people, nor was he interested in spending his time at school hanging around with Akira and his noisy bunch of friends. He supposed that was to be expected. He felt like he should have seen that coming in the first place. Takanori was never one to make friends and just because Akira had been able to make a few dents in that iron armour of his, it didn’t mean he’d be any more interested in socializing. It was a little disheartening, but that was just the way Takanori was. But at least Akira had been successful in getting him to go back to school. He also hadn’t forgotten that the second year had been absent for three weeks, and he was still determined to get answers. But for the moment he was content with how things were progressing.

 

“Ok, I understand,” Akira gave Takanori a reassuring smile. “Oh,” he suddenly remembered the conversation he’d had with his mother on Saturday and the errand he had to run that afternoon. “Taka, I need to go to my house this afternoon to pick up some clothes and other stuff I’ll need. Would you like to come with me? You could… maybe meet my family. I’m sure they love to see you as well.”

 

Takanori was a little stunned for a second. Akira wanted him to go and meet with his family? It would be the first time he’d ever been over to another student’s house. It seemed as if he was doing a lot of things for the first time with Akira around. After blinking a few times and refocussing back on the hopeful blond he said, “Is that really ok?”

 

Akira nodded enthusiastically, flashing the little blond a bright smile. “Of course it is!”

 

Takanori breathed a sigh of amazement and he felt a little smile twitch at the corner of his lips; but only a tiny one. Hardly even noticeable, really. “Sure, I’ll go I guess.”

 

Apparently nothing slipped by Akira though, because in an instant he was leaning down to look at Takanori’s face, their noses almost brushing. Their close proximity sent the younger boy’s heart rate skyrocketing as his eyes widened. “No way!” Akira exclaimed. “Was that a _smile_? A _real_ smile?”

 

“Of course not!” Takanori quickly retorted. Of course he hadn’t smiled… Not really. He moved on to hurriedly explain himself, “It was more a momentary twitch of the lip. Nothing else. Definitely _not_ a smile. You must be going crazy, birdbrain.”

 

Akira let out a haughty laugh, “Well do that not-a-smile thing again.”

 

“No, fuck off,” Takanori put his hands on Akira’s shoulders and gave the larger boy a rough shove. “I’m leaving. I’ll meet you back here after school. Later loser!”

 

Before Akira could say another word Takanori scurried off in the direction of the school. The third year couldn’t help but grin after him. That had _definitely_ been a smile, or at least the start of one. He’d actually made Takanori come close to smiling!

 

Akira pumped a fist into the air and let out a loud ‘yes!’ before he too sprinted for the school gates. He knew he’d be in a good mood for the rest of the day– hell, maybe even the rest of the week! Takanori had almost smiled… because of Akira. He was ecstatic. Totally over the moon. Nothing had ever made him so proud.

 

That grumpy little blond had _smiled_.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.

Serenity. Total peace. Calm. That’s what Takanori felt as he entered the familiar, and recently tidied, practice room during lunch that day. Taking a seat at the piano stool, he let his fingers lightly glide over the pearly white keys, pressing down on a few here and there. Feeling the coolness of the basswood keys under his fingertips gave the short second year a sense of serenity, like nothing outside of that room mattered anymore. It was the same kind of feeling his home recording studio provided him; a feeling a escaping. A way out. An escape route from life. Even if it _was_ only for a limited amount of time. After all, no one could totally escape from life; Takanori knew that fully well, yet he still enjoyed those moments of total calm.

 

Takanori hadn’t seen Akira all day and it felt as if the whole weekend, even the three weeks he wasn’t at school, was one huge dream to. Like it was something completely made up by his imagination in order to tell him that there really _was_ someone out there who had the capability to care for him. But he knew it wasn’t a dream because of the way his heart suddenly picked up a rapid pace whenever thoughts of the third year would cross his mind. He remembered the feeling of lying against Akira’s bare chest, the gentleness the blond had treated him to when he’d sliced his foot open, the feeling of those long fingers buried in his hair, the way Akira stroked the hair away from his face. It was all so incredibly vivid. _Far_ too vivid to be any dream he’d ever had; and those thoughts reassured him that Akira was real and he was part of Takanori’s life.

 

The little blond brought his hand up and clenched the fabric of his white school shirt in a tight fist. There was that feeling again. The tightness in his chest. The heaving of his heart, like it had been put under some kind of great pressure. What it because of Akira? It only seemed to happen when the dopey third year was around. But why? Really, what made Akira so different from every other clone in that school? Of course, Takanori already knew the answer; he just didn’t want to admit it to himself. He didn’t want to admit that the stupid blond had the ability to make his well-constructed, heavily reinforced walls crumble just by speaking a few simple words. It was scary that Akira had the ability to do that; no one had ever possessed that power before and it made Takanori’s heart do somersaults in his chest.

 

How had this happened to him? How had the most closed-off, secluded student in the entire school been infiltrated by the loudest and most annoying one? It just didn’t make sense; not to Takanori and probably not to Akira either. But, they were both willing to go along with it and see how things turned out. It was great risk for Takanori; the pair of them knew that. Takanori had never let anyone into his heart before and, to some degree, he guessed that made Akira feel kind of privileged. Takanori knew this because if their positions were to be switched, that is exactly how he would feel. And as much as he complained about Akira being stupid, in a way he secretly wished that the third year would never give up on him. He hoped that even when he was at his absolute lowest and when he wanted nothing to do with the world, even more so than usual, Akira would still be there coaxing him to open up and let the elder blond in. Takanori secretly hoped that Akira would always be there.

 

***

 

When the bell chimed, interrupting Takanori’s rapid train of thought, the second year stayed in his seat for a moment longer to compose himself and put his cold front back on before he rose out of the chair and made his way back out into the packed hallway. Exiting the room and clicking the door shut behind him, the blond turned around to see a certain raven haired student leaning against the wall on the other side of the bustling hallway, eyeing him calmly. Pushing up off the wall the raven began to make his way in the opposite direction to the human traffic and, with some difficulty, the small blond followed after him.

 

Stepping out into the crisp air felt nice. Everything being so routine and just like any other day felt like a strange dream. It felt surreal and almost uncomfortable. Like things were just unbelievably _normal_ and as they’d always been. Just thinking about it sent chills down Takanori’s spine.

 

After the pair of students were leaning against the railing with cigarettes lit and hanging from their lips the raven glanced to Takanori. “So you’re back.”

 

“Mm,” the blond answered. “Kouyou talking to you?”

 

Aoi nodded once, looking out over the cityscape. “Yeah.”

 

“Did he say what was wrong?”

 

“No.”

 

It was the way their usual conversations went. Brief; only speaking when really necessary. But Takanori had been talking so much recently that it felt strange to not speak more. He wanted Aoi to tell him more about what had gone on with his irritating boyfriend. Could he even be called that? Were the two of them even dating? It seemed like no one really knew but them. They were such an odd, secretive couple. No one ever saw them together but it was known that they were exclusive. It really baffled Takanori, but he knew it wasn’t his place to question them.

 

The raven haired second year silently studied the blond out of the corner of his eye, observing him. Actually, Aoi had been observing him from the moment he had walked through the school gates. There was something different about the blond; something Aoi had never seen in him before. His facial expression was different, the way he carried himself was different, his whole aura just radiated something _different_. Aoi couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he was willing to take a very educated stab in the dark and say that it had something to do with a certain blond third year. For some reason Takanori just seemed to be happier since the raven had revealed his outbreak to Akira that day three weeks prior. Honestly, he hadn’t thought it’d have that big of an effect on the third year, but it appeared that he was wrong. Aoi was far more perceptive than people thought. No one but him would have been able to pick up the fact that Takanori was different. To anyone else he would just look like the same old grumpy, intimidating midget; but Aoi could see clearly that there had been a change and he was absolutely certain that it had something to do with Akira. But he wasn’t about to question Takanori, he knew that pushing the little blond could have dire consequences for both himself and Akira. He was just glad to see his friend finally starting to open up.

 

The pair of second year students stayed out on the balcony until their cigarettes had long died out, neither of them willing to enter the main building of the school and succumb to the mundane life that existed within it. But it was impossible for them to stay outside for the rest of the day; that would no doubt lead to someone going looking for them and figuring out where they disappeared to so often, and that was certainly something they didn’t want. So it was with great reluctance that the pair finally split; Takanori giving Aoi a small nod as he paced his way back towards his classroom and Aoi in the direction of his own.

 

***

 

The bell rang at 3:00pm sharp, however the small blond second year hung back for at least fifteen minutes before heading outside to meet Akira a block over from the school where they’d parted that morning. It would have been a monstrous understatement to say that he was nervous. There he was, about to go and actually meet Akira’s family. All would have been fine and good if Takanori had _any_ people skills whatsoever, but that was one of the only areas he was really lacking in. Not to mention it was also the first time he’d ever met anyone else’s parents. He’d never had any friends besides Aoi and because they had such an odd friendship, Takanori had never seen the raven outside of school; thus never meeting his parents.

 

Takanori really didn’t know why he was so goddamn apprehensive. After all, didn’t he claim to not care what other’s thought of him? Didn’t he put up such a cold front so that people would stay away and not be interested in him? So that he wouldn’t need to care what they all thought of him? As much as he tried to deny it, he wanted Akira’s parents to like him. It completely befuddled him as to why that was, but that’s just the way things were. He _wanted_ to impress these people. People he’d never met before. It went against everything he’d put so much time and effort into convincing himself was true and this simple fact grated on his already teetering nerves.

 

As he approached their ‘meeting’ spot, Takanori could see Akira leaning up against a lamp post with his arms crossed and his eyes downcast. With a frown the little blond wondered if anything was wrong. Akira seemed as if he were in a foul mood.

 

“Hey,” Takanori mumbled as he came to a standstill in front of the elder boy.

 

Akira looked up from the ground and shot the younger a glare, “Where the hell were you? You know you’re almost half an hour late, right?”

 

With a shrug the little blond averted his eyes, looking off to the right. “It doesn’t matter; I’m here now, aren’t I?”

 

Pushing off the pole Akira leered over the second year and puffed out his chest in what was meant to be an intimidating way; at least that’s how Takanori interpreted it. “That’s not the point, Matsumoto. The point is, you’re _late_ and I was _worried_. What if someone had… I don’t know, tried to beat on you or something?”

 

Takanori crossed his thin arms over his chest and raised a well-trimmed eyebrow, giving the taller blond an incredulous glare, “The only person who ever tried to ‘beat’ on me, Akira, was _you_.” The small blond jabbed Akira’s broad chest with his finger before drawing back to put his little ring covered hand on his hip. “So I think I was pretty safe.”

 

Akira rolled his eyes; of course the midget was right. He’d never seen anyone but himself pick on Takanori. Akira sighed, “Fine. Point taken. But that still doesn’t change the fact that you’re late.” With a shake of his spikey blond head, Akira waved a hand dismissively, “It doesn’t matter. Sorry I got mad, I was just kind of worried. Let’s just go, ok? My mother is expecting us.”

 

Takanori nodded, glad that the elder boy had decided to drop the subject. He didn’t need any extra stress at that point in time; he was already nervous enough as it was. He thought that maybe, Akira was starting to learn that there was just some things that Takanori _didn’t_ want to talk about and that he knew when he needed to drop a subject. That thought sent a wave of relief flooding over the little blond. It was reassuring and a little heart-warming that Akira had actually taken on his reactions to different topics and was starting to gauge when he wanted to talk and when he didn’t.

 

Takanori had expected the walk to be much like the one to his own house; fifteen, twenty minutes at the very most. But half an hour passed by and the pair were still walking, Takanori a few paces behind Akira as he followed quietly. The houses were slowly becoming smaller and smaller, shabbier and shabbier. Where the hell did that idiot live? Or was it all some big hoax or joke or something and, at any moment Akira would turn around and start laughing? Or maybe the blond third year was actually a serial killer who planned to brutally murder him... So many possibilities ran through Takanori’s mind all of them getting worse and worse as they kept on walking.

 

_Thirty minutes…_

_Forty minutes…_

_Fifty minutes…_

_Sixty minutes…_

The sun was slowly beginning to dip below the horizon, casting peachy and orangey hues into the clouds that had been lingering all day. Finally, after just over an hour of walking Akira came to a standstill at a rusted gate left slightly ajar, announcing that they’d arrived. The house that lay beyond was a tiny looking one story building with peeling paint and a cracked window or two, but it definitely wasn’t the worst house on the street; many of _them_ were falling apart. ‘ _At least this one looks liveable_ ,’ Takanori thought.

 

“Come on,” Akira smiled softly as he pried the gate further open, the old metal creaking and groaning in protest. The garden on the side of the little stone path was slightly overgrown, but otherwise not too bad. It looked like it was actually taken care of; it was just in need of a check-up.

 

Akira pulled a silver key out of his pocket and slotted it into its rightful place in the door. As it turned Takanori felt his heart rate speed up, his palms becoming slightly sweaty as he made one final effort to straighten out his school shirt before the door was fully opened. Shoes were discarded at the front door and the pair of high school students stepped inside, Takanori doing his best to stay semi-hidden behind Akira’s broad shoulders.

 

The front door led directly into a small, cramped lounge room. To the right was an archway that looked like it led into a kitchen, and to the left was a short hallway with three doors. Takanori assumed that one was the bathroom which meant that the other two must have been bedrooms. It was the exact opposite of his own house; however the small space seemed to scream out ‘home’. It was welcoming and calm and it made the small blond feel at ease instantly.

 

“Tadaima!” Akira called out as he ventured further into his home small, Takanori hanging back just to observe for a while. He’d much rather wait until he was properly introduced than just flat out barge in; he felt it was the polite thing to do.

 

“Ah! Akira, okaeri!” A loving female voice called from the direction of the kitchen. She walked out through the archway and embraced her son. She looked lovely and kind and welcoming. Everything a mother should be. Smile lines creased her slightly aged face and she laughed as her thin arms hugged her son tightly.

 

“Mum,” Akira pulled away from the smiling woman and turned back to the little blond in the doorframe. Reaching his hand out, he gestured towards the second year, “This is my friend, Matsumoto Takanori.”

 

Akira’s mother gave him a warm smile, showing a small amount of teeth. “Lovely to meet you Takanori-kun. Akira told me about you when we spoke over the phone.”

 

Takanori stooped down into an awkward bow, his voice coming out small and hesitant. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

 

Suddenly a door down the hallway to the left was flung open and the occupants of the lounge room could hear the pitter-patter of little feet on the wooden floor.

 

“Nii-chan! Okaeri!” A little girl with long charcoal coloured hair with a straight fringe came into view. She beamed, showing off a row of pearly white teeth and giggled as she launched herself into Akira’s open arms. The third year stood up straight and rested one of his strong arms underneath the little girl’s thighs, shifting her weight so that she sat mainly on his hip. The little girl clung tightly to his neck, hugging him tightly. “I missed you, nii-chan.”

 

Akira chuckled, fondly ruffling the girls’ hair with his spare hand. “I missed you too, Koyuki.” Despite the age difference and different hair colours they were definitely siblings.

 

Takanori stood frozen in the doorframe. It was too much for him. The happy family scene in from of him was making his chest feel tight, and not in the good way Akira usually made him feel. It was almost painful, like acid was pumping through his veins and slowly corroding his heart. Sweaty hands gripped at the sides of his slightly loose school pants as a deep frown etched its way into his usually flawless brow. It felt like his heart had to pump extra hard and he could hear the blood flow in his ears.

 

Takanori registered nothing anymore. Not the family in front of him nor the shabby little house they lived in. All he could really register was the fact that someone he’d always despised had everything he’d ever wanted. Akira had the life he’d wished for. He had a family. Someone who would welcome him home at the end of the day, someone who would ask him what he’d done at school, someone who would just love him unconditionally and not need to rely on petty gifts and money. Akira’s family didn’t need to buy his love unlike Takanori’s did. More than anything he was jealous. He was jealous because Akira had people who cared for him.

 

“… Nori…” A sound vaguely registered to him. “Taka… Nori…” Someone was calling out to him. It took all of the little blond’s will power to re-enter the land of the conscious, focussing his attention on the spikey haired boy who’d been calling out to him. “Takanori… You alright?”

 

The little blond watched as Akira placed his sister back on the ground and went to stand in front of him. Obviously, the tall blond’s family had noticed something wasn’t quite right and they quickly exited the room, shuffling quietly into the kitchen; however, not without some kind of protest from Koyuki.

 

Takanori didn’t answer; instead he kept his eyes focused dead ahead of himself, not really looking at anything in particular. Akira reached out and took a hold of the little blond’s hand and gave his rigid body a light tug, indicating that they had to move. Without protesting, Takanori let himself be drawn further into the house and pulled into one of the three doors off the hallway; presumably Akira’s bedroom.

 

It was small, far smaller than Takanori’s bedroom and it contained two futons rolled out of the wooden floor. Seeing the two beds it was fair to assume that Akira shared a room with his little sister which meant, of course, that the other door was their mother’s room. Akira pushed Takanori down onto one and then sat across from him on the other.

 

Akira was completely puzzled. What the hell was going on with that kid? A moment ago he’d seemed fine, but then when Koyuki had come out and he’d just completely frozen up. There had to have been a trigger though… What was it? Slowly the third year thought back over the time he’d spent with Takanori. There was the time when he’d first shown up on Takanori’s doorstep to deliver his pizza and the little blond had completely blown up in his face. Akira vaguely remembered that Takanori had spoken about his parents never being around; he’d not seen them in over a year and they never bothered to contact him. Then Akira’s mind flashed to the time when Takanori had been cooking him dinner. The tall blond had been asking some questions about his parents, his mother, and Takanori had broken down. Then a few moments earlier when Akira had been with his mother and his sister…

 

Family! That was it! It _had_ to have something to do with family. Akira suddenly felt so incredibly stupid, how had he not noticed? All the signs were there. Clearly family was a tender subject for Takanori, yet Akira had continued to expose him to situations and conversations that involved it. He was _such_ an idiot. How would he ever make it up to the second year?

 

“Taka…” Akira spoke tenderly, leaning forward a little with an apologetic look on his face. “I’m sorry. Listen, I shouldn’t have brought you here. I wasn’t thinking. Just… let me get my stuff together and we’ll be out of here. Ok?” Takanori glanced up at him, eyes slightly wide as he nodded. “Ok,” Akira breathed as he quickly got up off the futon and trudged over to the built-in wardrobe in the wall, pulling out a bag to begin throwing his possessions into.

 

In less than five minutes and a short trip out to talk to his mother, Akira was pulling the strap of his bag over his shoulder and reaching a hand out to the little blond who still sat like a statue on the futon. “Taka, come on. We’re going now,” Akira beckoned him to get up. When Takanori didn’t move Akira reached down and took hold of his hand again, lightly jerking him in an upwards motion. The sudden movement seemed to jolt Takanori out of his trance-like state and back into reality. Pulling his hand away from Akira’s, the second year followed after the elder boy back out into lounge room where his mother and sister were waiting.

 

Akira’s mother staring lovingly at her son, bringing him into a tight hug, “Are you sure you won’t stay for dinner?”

 

Akira shook his head, smiling apologetically, “Sorry, mum. I wish we could stay longer, but Taka’s not feeling well.” It was a small white lie; however it was necessary in order to get Takanori out of such an uncomfortable situation. Akira felt that it was his responsibility to pull the little blond out of this one, seeing as he was the one who’d gotten the second year into this mess.

 

“Ok, I understand,” leaning around Akira’s broad form she smiled at Takanori. “It was lovely meeting you. I hope you feel better, sweetie.” All Takanori could do was nod.

 

Koyuki sobbed a little as she beckoned for Akira to pick her up; which is exactly what he did, hugging her tightly. She sobbed quietly, “Nii-chan, why do you have to go away?”

 

Akira pulled back and set her small bare feet back on the ground. He crouched down to her level and stroked a hand through her waist-length hair. “I’m sorry little snowflake. I have to look after my friend. But I _promise_ I’ll call you all the time, ok? Make sure you look after mummy.”

 

Koyuki nodded and smiled. Akira still used the nickname he’d come up with for her. With one more tight hug she moved around Akira to make her way towards the other blond in the room. She stared up at the rigid boy and smiled sweetly. Her little hand reached out to take hold of his fingers, “Please take care of my brother, ok?”

 

“… I will.”

 

The pair of high school students exited the house and made their way back out onto the street to begin the long trek back to Takanori’s house. That visit hadn’t exactly gone as Akira had hoped. He couldn’t help but feel bad; how stupid did he have to be to _not_ put two and two together? He was desperately trying to think of _something_ he could do to make it up to the little blond. He knew he shouldn’t care. After all, it wasn’t necessarily his problem. But, he guessed in a way it was, because he was the one who’d promised to stick around and work through everything. He’d made a promise to himself that he’d break through that little firecracker’s steel barrier.

 

***

 

The entire walk was plagued by silence. Takanori followed behind Akira with his eyes downcast and his hands shoved deep into his pockets, lips tightly sealed. Akira knew that he shouldn’t talk and so he kept his own mouth shut, leading the way back to their home. He’d decided to start calling Takanori’s place ‘theirs’ and ‘home’ because, for however long it was, that was where he was living. It was his home for the time being.

 

Almost an hour and a half later the sun was completely set and the entire city of Tokyo was drenched in a curtain of darkness. When the silent pair finally hit the front gates of Takanori’s large home, the little blond surprised Akira by suddenly breaking into a sprint. Akira stood for a second, completely stunned, before taking off after him. The third year had a clear advantage, being naturally athletic and much taller than the second year and even though Takanori’s short legs could carry him faster than Akira had imagined, he had no trouble keeping just a few paces behind the younger boy.

 

“Hey!” Akira called out. “Takanori stop…! Wait up!”

 

Akira’s calls were in vain though. All the little blond did was speed up. Flinging the front door open and carelessly tossing his bag to the side, Takanori continued up the lavishly carpeted stairs, turning the corner in the opposite direction to his bedroom he bolted down the hallway. Akira followed closely behind but could do very little when Takanori suddenly jerked to the left and entered one of the rooms, quickly shutting and locking the door behind him.

 

Bracing one hand against the closed door, Akira leaned over to catch his breath. ‘ _What the hell was that?_ ’ Akira thought? Why had Takanori suddenly made a run for it? That kid just made absolutely no sense to Akira. He was constantly baffled by how Takanori reacted to different situations. He was totally enigmatic; however Akira was proud to admit that he was slowly but surely solving the mystery that was Takanori.

 

When the air leaving the blond third year’s lungs in short, sharp puffs finally calmed back down to normal he swivelled around on his heel to lean his back against the door. Tilting his head backwards, Akira dropped it onto the door, making a soft _thud_. How was he going to do this?

 

“Taka…” Akira started, knowing full well that the little blond on the other side of the door could hear him. There would be no need for him to try and bust down the door; he figured the more gentle calm approach would be the best way to go. “Taka, look… I’m sorry I did that to you. I wasn’t thinking. I should’ve considered your feelings before I went ahead and took you to my house. I just... God…” Akira sighed as he dropped his head into his palm. “I’m such an idiot. Taka, I’m really sorry. Please come out.”

 

There was no answer. Akira moved to the side, sliding his back down the wall until his backside connected with the soft carpeted hallway. He was prepared to wait as long as it took for the little blond to finally come out of hiding. But he couldn’t help but wonder what was so special about that room. Why, out of all the billions of rooms in the house to run into, did he pick that particular one? There had to be something in there… but what? Akira figured it was just another one of Takanori’s many secrets that would need to be uncovered later on.

 

The deeper he delved, the more complicated he found Takanori to be. He remembered when he’d thought the second year was just some conceited fucker who thought he was better than everyone else. He guessed the day that his ideas about Takanori had changed was the day the little blond had told Akira to hit him. Then when Aoi had taken him to the music room Akira just had this feeling deep in his gut that there was far more there than met the eye. He may be blond and he may act a little dumb sometimes, but despite what Takanori seemed to believe with every fibre of his shortarse little being, he was anything but stupid.

 

Time passed far slower than Akira had thought it would. He imagined this would be just another one of Takanori’s little spats that he often threw, but as time drew on he realized that the visit to his home may have caused more of an effect on the short blond than he’d originally anticipated. Seconds turned into minutes which then turned into hours. Akira could’ve sworn he sat outside that room for days; however he knew it’d probably only been a few hours at most.

 

When the spikey-haired blond checked his phone the illuminated numbers told him the time was 11:43pm. What the hell was Takanori doing in there? Akira was roused from his thoughts by the slight creaking of hinges. Quickly, he stood up to face the door. With his head down, Takanori shuffled out of the dark room, shutting the door behind him as he went.

 

Facing the little blond, Akira tried to get a glimpse of his face but to no avail; there was a curtain of bleached locks blocking his view. Instead, Akira took a tentative step forwards and reached out to the younger boy. Much to the elder’s great surprise he didn’t pull away when a hand was placed gently on his shoulder.

 

“Takanori… Are you ok now?” Akira asked.

 

Takanori nodded, “Let’s just… go to bed now. Ok?”

 

“Yeah, of course,” the third year agreed instantly. “Come on.” He led the way down the hall back in the direction of their respective bedrooms. When he stopped outside Takanori’s door he smiled and reached out to lightly squeeze the younger’s forearm in what was hopefully a reassuring gesture. “Goodnight, Taka.”

 

Turning on his heel, Akira was about to retreat to his own bedroom for some well-earned rest when he felt a soft grip on his sleeve. Looking down he saw the small, ring clad hand clinging lightly to the material of his long sleeve shirt. His eyes rose slowly until they came to rest on the troubled looking features of the boy in front of him. Takanori was glancing up at Akira through his fringe, deep frown lines creasing his brow.

 

The hand on Akira’s sleeve tightened slightly as Takanori spoke in a strained, barely audible voice, “Tonight… will you stay… with me?”

 

Akira’s eyes widened. Takanori wanted him to stay with him? Clearly he needed far more comfort than Akira had thought and it’d taken a lot of courage for Takanori to reach out like he had. There was no possible way the third year could say no. Not when Takanori clearly needed him. Besides, Akira didn’t know when he’d _ever_ hear the younger boy admit that he needed him or if there would even be a second time.

 

“Sure thing,” Akira smiled. “Just let me get changed, yeah?”

 

Takanori nodded as he let go of Akira’s sleeve to scurry into his own room, leaving the tall blond standing in the hallway completely dumbfounded. He couldn’t deny that he was a little happy though. For at least one night he would get to really be there for Takanori and comfort him. The thought sent a flourish of butterflies through the third year’s stomach and he couldn’t help but let a goofy grin spread across his face as he trotted happily into his room.

 

Not ten minutes later Akira was changed into a pair of black sweat pants and the hairspray from earlier in the day was brushed out, leaving his hair floppy and lacking volume. He had to admit, he was a little nervous about not wearing his signature noseband in front of Takanori, but there wasn’t much he could really do; sleeping in the thing seemed pretty ridiculous. Hence he elected to leave the strip of material on his bedside table.

 

Exiting his room, Akira crossed the hallway to knock on Takanori’s door. Within a few seconds the little blond was standing in front of him, also having gotten rid of all traces of hair product and makeup, wearing an oversized hoodie and a pair of silk pyjama shorts that showed off those appealing creamy thighs. When Takanori looked up at his house guest he just stared for what seemed like an eternity to both of them.

 

“Your noseband…” He finally spoke in a small voice. “You look good without it.”

 

Akira smiled a little, rubbing the back of his neck rather sheepishly. “Ah, thanks. Can I come in?”

 

Takanori stepped aside, letting the elder blond stride into his dark room and come to a standstill in the middle of it. The door clicked shut and Akira heard the shuffle of bare feet across carpet. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but when they did he could see the outline of Takanori’s silhouette climbing under the covers. Akira thought that, in order to not make the situation any more awkward than it was, he’d best follow suit. Cautiously he made his way to the empty side of the king sized bed and slid in underneath the thin covers. Such a comfortable position felt like heaven after the day he’d had. So much had happened and as soon as his head hit the pillow he felt instantly exhausted.

 

There was the feeling of the mattress shifting beside him and next thing he knew he felt Takanori’s small figure pressed up against his side. Akira froze for a moment. Everything since they’d gotten home that night had been so odd. Takanori really hadn’t been acting like himself. Had Akira’s stupid decision really had that much of an effect on the second year? He felt like he’d really screwed up.

 

It didn’t take long for his senses to kick back in though and he shifted around onto to his side so he could carefully slip his bare arms around the second year’s thin waist. If the younger boy reacted negatively in any way Akira knew he’d stop right away; he was being exceedingly careful. This time it was Takanori who was taken a little aback however he threaded one arm around Akira’s neck and tucked the other one up against the tall blond’s shirtless chest.

 

Takanori’s voice was muffled by the naked skin at the crook of Akira’s neck, but he could still be heard loud and clear in the silent room. “… Thank you.”

 

Akira couldn’t help but smile and tighten his hold ever so slightly, leaning his cheek against the blond topped head of the other boy. “You’re welcome. Taka… I’m so sorry I did that to you.” There was no two ways around it, he still felt incredibly guilty.

 

“Stop apologizing already, will you? I get it.”

 

Akira chuckled, “I still feel bad though. How can I make it up to you?”

 

“By shutting up and letting me go to sleep.”

 

“Aye aye, sir.”

 

Akira was sure that if he’d had the energy, Takanori would have rolled his eyes and made some kind of snarky remark. But the little blond seemed so drained and Akira felt the younger’s body sag against his own as they were both dragged towards the dark abyss of sleep.

 

Just as they were both about to succumb to unconsciousness Takanori’s tired voice broke the silence once again, “Akira?”

 

“Mm?”

 

“I don’t want to go to school tomorrow.”

 

Akira sighed. “Ok, we’ll stay home then... You can teach me to cook.”

 

The tall blond felt Takanori nod, bleached strands of hair tickling his neck. “Also,” Takanori started, refusing to give up on staying awake just a little longer. “Don’t get used to this. It’s a one off thing, you know? Don’t expect to be staying in my room again after tonight…”

 

“Goodnight, Takanori.”

 

“ … ‘Night, birdbrain.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.

The soft glow of morning sunlight filtered in through the cracks between the curtain and the dark painted walls indicating the sun had risen well into the sky. However, the pair huddled in the bed didn’t shift from their position as the early morning hours slowly ticked by. The night had been calm and comfortable for both of them; their bodies seeming to fit perfectly together like puzzle pieces, as cliché as that was in both of their minds. Neither of them had moved an inch since they’d fallen asleep; arms stayed linked around a thin, lithe waist, a hand delicately curled against a strong chest, legs tangled together under the thick duvet. Perfectly comfortable, neither of them wanted to move an inch.

 

Akira had been awake for maybe an hour or so. Slowly coming back into consciousness he glanced down to look at the small blond curled against him whose features looked less strained as he slept, ‘ _much more beautiful_ ’, Akira thought. Smiling softly, the third year gently pressed his nose to the crown to Takanori’s head to inhale the second year’s intoxicating scent. Takanori smelled strangely like cinnamon with a hint of… caramel? An odd combination, but Akira liked it. Tightening his arms slightly, the elder gingerly pressed his lips lightly against bleached blond strands of hair. He pulled away a little when Takanori shifted in his grasp, concerned he’d roused the sleeping blond from his peaceful slumber. However, Takanori sighed contently as he nuzzled Akira’s bare neck, continuing to sleep soundly.

 

For Akira, it was like some kind of really crazy, unbelievable dream. Never in his wildest fantasies had he imagined that he would eventually be sharing a bed with someone he’d despised so intensely, let alone actually enjoy being entwined so intimately with the other boy, loving the way that thin little frame moulded to his own; every curve and every angle slotting against his own frame perfectly. Come to think of it, he didn’t even remember why he had hated the second year so much. He guessed it was because Takanori had been the only person to ever refuse his advances; back then Akira had been a different person, far more arrogant and unpleasant. The tall blond had been through changes of his own however Takanori seemed to still loath the old Akira. Maybe, he contemplated, that’s why the second year hated him so; because of the person he _used_ to be. But he wasn’t that person anymore. Akira found that every day since he’d moved into the enormous, at least by his standards, home Takanori seemed to amaze him. Every day he would learn something new about the smaller boy and every day he would find himself liking Takanori more and more. Really, the little blond was anything but the dull, arsehole Akira had thought he was to begin with. He was complex, sensitive, and a hell of a lot nicer than most other people thought. Even though most couldn’t see through that thick skin the second year wore, Akira could; as could Aoi, he guessed. Akira wondered endlessly what it would take to get Takanori to finally open up completely and let people in. He got that it’d take a while, but he still had no clue as to how to really approach the situation.

 

Slipping his eyes shut again Akira listened to Takanori’s even breaths, enjoying the soothing effect they had. The little blond shifted his hips slightly, hooking his leg up slightly between Akira’s while the other lay underneath one of the elder’s. Akita could feel that the bottom hem of his sweat pants had slightly ridden up sometime during the night when he felt Takanori’s smooth, hairless skin brush against his own hairier calves. A tingling sensation spread through him at the skin to skin contact and the elder couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to run his calloused fingers over that silky surface. Not in any way that was sexual; he just wanted to feel Takanori, feel his skin, his warmth, and be close to him. He smiled as he could only imagine what the smaller boy’s velvety flesh would feel like under his fingertips.

 

Nuzzling his head into the crook of Akira’s neck a little more, Takanori’s quiet breaths began to pick up ever so slightly, indicating that the little blond was beginning to wake up. The fingers that rested against the bare skin of the tall blond’s back tightened into a small fist. Slowly coming back into consciousness Takanori yawned, his warm breath tickling Akira’s neck and sending a pleasant chill up the tall blond’s spine. The elder boy waited patiently for the smaller to awaken and to most likely be kicked out of the room, seeing as Takanori had come back to his right mind. Akira imagined that there would be no way Takanori would let him stay now that he was no longer upset and in need of comfort; he’d figured out that the second year’s mind functioned in that fashion.

 

With a groan Takanori opened his eyes, glancing around tiredly. His room was lit with a small amount of dull sunlight. He shifted slightly, finally noticing that his entire lithe frame was pressed against another stronger, bare-chested one. Instantly his heartbeat sped up. There was only one person who could’ve possibly been there with him and, in a flash, he remembered the previous day’s events and how he’d asked Akira to stay with him. Taking a quiet, shaky breath he tried to relax again. As much as he would have liked to deny it, the feeling of being locked in the third year’s tight embrace felt nice; really, really nice. It was comfortable and warm and he felt like he belonged there. Immediately he felt a heated blush climb it’s up to his cheeks. Luckily his face was hidden in the juncture between Akira’s shoulder and neck, otherwise he surely would’ve been made fun of by the birdbrain who seemed to enjoy making him look like a fool whenever the chance arose.

 

‘ _Maybe_ ,’ thought Takanori, ‘ _He’ll think I’m still asleep if I stay really, really still-_ ’

 

“Morning, Taka,” Akira’s gruff morning voice cut off the little blond’s thoughts. There was no doubt that the tall blond sounded incredibly sexy; the roughness making his baritone voice sound even deeper than usual and it sent a pleasant chill down Takanori’s spine, raising goosebumps on his skin.

 

Lifting his head slightly, the little blond glanced up at Akira who had pulled his head away a little so he could see Takanori properly. “Morning,” his own voice was gruff, but didn’t have the same sexy undertone as Akira’s did.

 

A small smile graced Akira’s lips as he seemed to stare adoringly at Takanori and the small blond found himself unable to look Akira in the eye as his heart sped up again, feeling like there was a hummingbird caught in his chest. Why was he suddenly so nervous? Maybe it was because he noticed how close their faces really were and how easy it’d be for Akira to just lean down and kiss him. Takanori eyes widened as he wondered where that thought had even come from. He didn’t want to kiss Akira. Not at all. Not even in the slightest…

 

Nope.

 

“Did you sleep ok?” For the second time that morning Akira derailed Takanori’s train of thought.

 

The small blond’s attention snapped back to the third year in front of his as he slowly nodded, casting his eyes down. “Yeah… better than I have been lately…” He glanced up through his lashes feeling his cheeks heat up again. “… Thanks Akira.”

 

“It was my pleasure,” the blond commented easily, the simple statement making Takanori’s heart flutter a little.

 

Silence settled around the pair for a while but it wasn’t long before Takanori felt Akira shift slightly and then there was the foreign feeling of fingers stroking through his messed blond hair. At the rate he was going he was positive his heart was going to leap out of his chest; Akira really wasn’t very good for his health.

 

“Akira…” Takanori whispered, frozen and unable to look into the elder boy’s eyes, instead focusing on the bare chest in front of him which really wasn’t making him feel much better at all. “… What are you doing?”

 

A deep rumble rolled through Akira’s chest, the vibrations hitting Takanori’s cheek. “Nothing,” he answered, his tone playfully sarcastic. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

 

Takanori scoffed, giving the elder’s firm chest a soft wack with his small fist, “Shut up, idiot.”

 

Akira laughed softly again before the quiet took over again. Takanori began to relax as Akira’s long fingers continued to stroke comfortingly through the strands of his heavily bleached blond hair. It was unbelievably comfortable, Takanori thought, to be there with Akira. As much as he’d initially despised the senior he’d somehow managed to grow attached to him over the time they’d spent together and, not that he knew Akira wasn’t all he seemed to be, the second year student found himself liking Akira far more than he’d ever thought he would. If someone had told him three months ago that Akira would grow to be one of the closest people to him he’d have given that person a nice fat lip and told them they were completely fucking insane.

 

“Hey, Taka,” Akira’s quiet voice interrupted his thoughts. Glancing up at the elder blond who was also staring down at him he ‘hmm’ed indicating that he was listening. Fingers still stroking soft hair, he sighed, “I’m really sorry about yesterday.”

 

Takanori groaned and pushed his hand against the tall blond’s chest so he could lean back and sit up a little, breaking their contact. With a frown creasing his brow he rolled his eyes, “Oh, my God, Akira. Just drop it already, would you? I already told you its fine.”

 

“You clearly weren’t fine yesterday,” Akira retorted.

 

Glaring, Takanori sat up straight, completely breaking their intimate embrace, and pulling the covers off both of them. “Drop it, Akira. It’s over and done with, alright?”

 

“Drop it? You want me to drop it?” Akira mimicked Takanori and sat up next to him, hair sticking out at odd angles. The elder blond was quickly becoming irritated. All he did was apologize and Takanori was suddenly getting all defensive.

 

“Yes, I want you to drop it.”

 

“Well I can’t, ok?” Akira growled. “Not after how you acted yesterday. Why can’t you just let me apologize and make it up to you? Why can’t you actually open up and maybe, I don’t know here’s a crazy idea, tell me _why_ you were like that!” Running a hand through his dishevelled hair he scoffed in mock amusement. “You run off almost in tears, then ask me to stay in your freaking bed with you and then you won’t even tell me what’s going on. Not one single skerrick of an explanation. I get that your parents are a tender subject for you; I understand that, I do. But you have to tell me _why_. You can’t lock people out forever, Takanori.”

 

The entire time Akira spoke Takanori was rapidly growing angrier and angrier. He _clearly_ had no idea how hard it was for the small blond to even consider telling him what was going on, let alone actually do it. Takanori scowled, “Well it’s worked for me so far.”

 

“It won’t work for much longer. You can’t just stay locked up in your own little world, Taka-”

 

“No, Akira,” Takanori abruptly cut him off, throwing the covers away and untangling the pair’s legs as he stood up, hair dishevelled, legs shown off by a pair of short silk pyjama bottoms and oversized sweatshirt hanging off his shoulder to reveal beautifully smooth, pale skin. If he weren’t so angry, Akira would’ve thought he looked gorgeous. “We are not having this conversation right now,” the little blond snapped as he began pacing towards the door, small bare feet shuffling silently along the carpet.

 

“Takanori, wait!” Akira scrambled to get out of bed as the smaller boy reached the door. “We aren’t done talking.”

 

“Yes we are. Now leave me alone.” Akira thumped to the floor, legs still caught up in the crisp white sheets as Takanori slammed the door shut.

 

Storming down the hallway Takanori stomped passed the staircase and over to the other side of the second level to the door of his recording studio. Slamming the wood shut and locking it behind him the little blond flicked on the light before plopping down in his desk chair.

 

While waiting for his expensive computer equipment to start up Takanori leaned back and swivelled around in his chair a few times, reflecting on the previous day. Akira really was the opposite of what he’d thought this whole time. The elder blond’s home had come as a huge shock to him, and not just the loving relationship he appeared to share with his mother and his sister that Takanori so enviously regarded. But the walk the tall blond had to make just to get to and from school. Takanori wondered if he had to walk all that way every day; suddenly the twenty measly minutes he had to stroll to get to the place he considered hell didn’t really seem so bad.

 

He felt as if he’d been incredibly rude, really. Akira had trusted him enough to bring him home and introduce him his mother and sister and all Takanori had done was freeze up. Granted, it wasn’t something he could really control, but he felt like he should’ve been more polite. Guilt built up in the pit of his stomach as he realized that he didn’t know when Akira would see his family again. Sure, he could always go and visit but it was an hour and a half walk away and the pair of them had school and assignments and homework. Takanori felt as if he were taking Akira away from his mother and his sister who probably needed him a lot more than Takanori did. It would’ve been a huge understatement to say that he was feeling quite selfish.

 

With a sigh he turned in the chair and picked up his favourite cherry red guitar and placed it atop his leg. Hooking it up to the newly loaded computer he opened up his editing program and hit the record button, intending to get down a new track he’d been working on. Takanori was thankful the bruise on his wrist had finally faded enough that he could play again; he had a lot of recording he needed to catch up, Akira managing to make him miss a few of his personal deadlines.

 

***

 

After clearing his head by taking a good three or four hours to track the guitar and bass for his new song, Takanori had returned to his room to find his bed absent of any birdbrained third years. Assuming the elder boy had merely retreated to his own room across the hallway, Takanori quickly slipped off to have a shower, enjoying the relaxation the hot beads of water brought him.

 

Freshly showered and feeling like he was in a _far_ better mood, Takanori changed into a pair of tight fitting black jeans and a baggy red and black plaid shirt. With a towel draped over his shoulders to stop his hair from dripping onto his clothes Takanori exited his room in search of nourishment. Entering the kitchen his jaw dropped at the sight of Akira leaned over the stove top, flour clearly smeared across his hands and forearms, the tall blond had also managed to get it over the countertop. A few broken eggshells sat on the counter, Takanori spying an egg yolk on the floor not too far away from Akira’s bare feet. The sound of sizzling reached his ears and the smell of burnt something abused his nostrils. One of Takanori’s iPads sat propped up in front of the third year on the counter with what looked like a recipe for pancakes.

 

“What the hell are you doing?” Takanori questioned as he inched his way towards what looked like a flour bombsite.

 

Surprised, Akira spun around to face the little blond spatula in hand, almost knocking over a glass that sat far too close to the edge of the counter. Fumbling to try and keep the cup on a stable surface Akira dropped his spatula, the metal utensil clattering to the ground. Cursing, the tall blond bent over to pick it up, only to wack his head on the way back up; a loud yelp escaping his lips as he brought a hand up to rub the abused surface.

 

Takanori watched the highly comical scene before him with an amused raise of one eyebrow. “You’re an idiot,” he stated, giving the elder boy an incredulous look.

 

Looking back at the second year, Akira gave Takanori a rather goofy grin as he continued to rub his sore head. Huffing a little laugh he shrugged a pair of broad bare shoulders, “Yeah, I guess so. But at least I’m a nice idiot… Look.” He pointed his spatula at the clean section of counter at the island. Following the directions Takanori looked over and saw a stack of relatively well-cooked pancakes. “They’re for you.” By the look of the kitchen and the pancakes on the place it would appear that it had taken the third year student several attempts to get them right.

 

Takanori looked back at Akira before quietly shuffling his bare feet across the tiles of the kitchen floor until he reached one of the stools. Plopping down he watched as Akira turned off the stovetop and placed the last pancake on the top of the stack, sliding into the seat next to him.

 

“I hope it’s alright,” Akira commented absentmindedly as he served two of the freshly cooked pancakes and placed the plate in front of Takanori. “Here.”

 

Mumbling his thanks Takanori picked up the maple syrup and drizzled it over the top of his food before picking up his knife and fork and cutting into a pancake. He was acutely aware of Akira’s gaze on him as he lifted the slice to his mouth and popped it in, chewing thoughtfully determining whether or not they were sufficiently tasty or not.

 

“Well…?” Akira prompted.

 

Glancing at the elder blond out of the corner of his eye, Takanori ‘hmm’ed’ as he swallowed. “Well, _I_ could’ve done them a lot better… But I guess they’re edible.”

 

Akira flashed another one of his goofy grins and Takanori stared as the elder served himself up and absolutely drowned his pancakes in syrup. He watch in amusement as Akira fumbled with his knife and fork, struggling to hold them correctly and dropping them a few times. Takanori guessed that he’d never really had to use the foreign utensils as chopsticks were usually the choice of Japanese families. The only reason he knew how to use a knife and fork was because his mother had insisted he learn.

 

After a few minutes of watching Akira flail with his cutlery Takanori snorted and rolled his eyes. “Here.” He reached out and put his hand over the back of Akira’s, his own small fingers sitting over longer ones. “Like this,” Takanori explained as he adjusted the fork to sit right in Akira’s hand and positioned the elder blond’s fingers correctly. Once the fork was sitting right Takanori stood up and walked around to the third year’s other side and did the same with his knife, making sure the utensil sat right before picking up the elder’s other hand again and guiding them through the motions of cutting off a piece of food. “There, do you get it now?” Takanori finally pulled his hands away and gazed at Akira.

 

The elder blond looked over his shoulder at the second year, a little surprised. The feeling didn’t last long though as he smiled and nodded, “Yeah, thanks.”

 

Takanori averted his eyes as he felt a small blush rising on his cheeks, realizing he’d just held Akira’s hands. He’d probably performed an action that could be considered somewhat intimate. He didn’t really know though, he wasn’t very experienced in that field at all having never really been around a lot of people. “You’re welcome,” he mumbled as he returned to his own seat to finish eating his breakfast.

 

Akira had eventually managed to get the hang of using a knife and fork, thanks to Takanori’s help, and after they’d both contributed to clearing up the huge mess Akira had managed to make, the elder blond had taken a loose hold of Takanori’s thin wrist and pulled him the direction of one of the family rooms towards the front left hand side of the house. Entering the brightly lit room with window walls looking out over a perfectly kept lawn, Akira pulled Takanori over to the white grand piano in the corner and sat the little blond down on the stool, positioning himself in the armchair just next to it.

 

Takanori stared at Akira sceptically, “Why are we in here?”

 

“Why do you think?” Akira smirked and pointed to the piano. “I know you can, so… will you play for me…? Please?”

 

A look of astonishment passed over Takanori’s features as he stared at the enthusiastic elder blond. He really wanted to hear Takanori play? Even though he considered himself something of a musician he’d never actually played in front of anyone else before. It was quite a nerve-wracking feeling to have someone expecting him to perform. What would he even play? A cover? One of his originals? What if he turned out to be crap and Akira gave him shit for the entire rest of the time he was there? So many frantic questions ran through the little blonds head.

 

“Taka,” Akira interrupted his thought process and shifted seats, moving to sit on the piano stool next to Takanori so that their hips brushed together. “Will you please play for me?”

 

The blond musician felt a blush creeping its way across his cheeks at the close proximity the two were in. They were sitting so close he could see the little smudge of flour that lingered on Akira’s raised cheekbone that was still bare of the cloth that usually covered it.

 

Swallowing, Takanori found himself nodding without even knowing why. Did he really want to play for Akira? Or was it just the fact that the elder blond was sitting so close and clouding his judgment? Either way he’d made his decision and slowly he turned around to face towards the beautiful white instrument, running his hands over the lid before pushing it open and swiping his fingers over the ivory and ebony that lay underneath. He’d always had a particular fondness for that particular piano and yet he had no idea why.

 

He could feel Akira’s gaze fixed on his hand as he contemplated on what to play. Finally settling on a song choice Takanori got his fingers into position and prepared himself to play. Shutting his eyes he took a deep breath and pressed down on the notes that made up the first chords of the song he’d selected. As the melody flowed out of the piano Takanori began to engage more in playing, completely forgetting about Akira’s presence beside him as he lost himself in the freeing feeling of music. He was always like this when he played. He often left reality and entered an entirely different world of his own which was completely devoid of all of the stress that came with everyday life and all of the problems that came along with it. In Takanori’s mind he was no longer in the room in his home with Akira scrutinizing his every move; he was far off in another world. His fingers moved over the keys of the piano without him really needing to think about the notes he played; it was like his well-trained digits just _knew_ where they had to be and when. As the melody finally came to a close Takanori let his fingers linger on the keys in order to let the notes ring out. Opening his eyes he turned to look at Akira who just stared back open-mouthed and seeming to be in a daze.

 

“Taka…” Akira finally spoke after what felt like forever and Takanori was beginning to think he sounded like absolute rubbish. However the brilliant smile that broke out across Akira’s face told him otherwise. “That was beautiful! Did you write that?”

 

Takanori nodded rather shyly, casting his eyes down to stare at the polished keys of the piano. “…Yeah.”

 

“Wow,” Akira breathed, seeming to take a moment to gather his bearings. “Taka, that was amazing. Really, I wish I could hear you play more often.”

 

Heat rose on Takanori’s cheeks for what must have been the thousandth time that day. What was it about Akira that had him blushing so easily? Sure, he guessed he had to admit that the tall blond was quite charming but Takanori had been around plenty of charming people in his life and none of them had managed to woo him successfully. So what was so different about that stupid birdbrain? Perhaps it was because he’d showed Takanori a certain kindness that no one ever had before. Whatever it was, it always managed to make his usually cold heart flutter and heat rise on his pale cheeks.

 

As Takanori looked back up at Akira he noticed that the same smudge of flour was still sitting on the elder boy’s cheek and it was beginning to get on his neat-freak mind. Without thinking about it much the second year brought his hand up to cup the left side of Akira face so he could wipe away the remnants of the elder’s early cooking with his thumb. Once the flour was gone Takanori appeared to realize exactly what he’d just done and quickly withdrew his hand, mumbling an apology.

 

Chuckling, Akira shook his head a little, “You’re a lot shyer than I would’ve ever imagined.”

 

Takanori’s hazel tinted eyes snapped back to the elder blond flashing a small amount of annoyance; not because he was angry but because his nervousness had been caught out. “Shut up,” he snapped before continuing in a mumble, “I’m not usually like this.”

 

“Oh? So it’s only me that makes you like this,” Akira leaned a little closer with a little smile twitching at the corner of his enticing lips and Takanori couldn’t help but let his eyes wonder to stare at the plump flesh for a fraction of a section.

 

Eyes widened Takanori cursed himself for carelessly throwing out that fact. “No, of course not,” he jumped straight to defensiveness. “I’ve been shy around other people as well. Like…” He tried to think of a few examples but drew a blank every time.

 

“Like…?” Akira prompted smugly knowing how much the little blond hated other people which meant that he was most likely never nervous around anyone.

 

“Like…” Takanori scrunched up his nose in the most adorable way as he wracked his brain for someone to name. “I can’t think of anyone right now, but I _have_ been nervous around other people before so don’t feel too special, ok?”

 

Akira chuckled, “Right, of course…So, that must mean than someone’s done this before…” Smirking, Akira slipped his hand against Takanori’s waist, feeling the small second year jump at his feather-light touch.

 

“What are you doing?” Takanori murmured as he tried to pull away from the light touch on his side. His heart thumped like a jackhammer in his chest; he’d never been touched in such a simple affectionate way before. Flinching a little as Akira slipped his other hand against the other side of his small waist, Takanori’s breathing picked up a little. If he’d been nervous before, surely now he would die of a heart attack. He dare not look up at Akira’s face for fear that he may actually pass out.

 

“Taka, look at me,” Akira spoke softly and the second year could feel the other’s warm breath against his flushed cheek. “Takanori,” the third year lowered his voice as he locked his hands at the small of Takanori’s back, forcing the younger to press against his still bare chest and Takanori was almost certain Akira could feel the frantic beating of his heart.

 

Slowly the small blond raised his head to find that he and Akira were nose to nose. So incredibly close he had to cross his eyes slightly to be able to look into the elder’s onyx coloured orbs. His breath shook and his heart thumped as Akira leaned forward; all he could think to himself was ‘ _no, no, no. This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening_ ’. But the scary thing for Takanori was that it _was_ happening, Akira was steadily leaning forward until his lips were just hovering above Takanori’s own trembling ones. His breath hitched in his throat as Akira’s confident lips finally locked with his own. Squeezing his eyes shut he tried to accustom himself to the foreign feeling and soon felt himself relaxing into Akira’s grip as the most pleasant feeling overcame him. He could feel the way the elder blond’s lips moulded to his perfectly and how he didn’t really need to be guided, he just kind of knew what to do. There was no tongue, no sloppy swapping of saliva; just the press of velvet lips against velvet lips. A small hand snuck up at cupped the nape of Akira’s neck as Takanori relaxed into the kiss more, his other hand slaying open on the elder boy’s broad chest.

 

The kiss was short-lived but a completely blissful experience and when Akira broke the contact just enough to rest his forehead against Takanori’s and the little blond couldn’t help but let the tiniest of smiles tug at the corners of his lips. When he opened his eyes he saw Akira grinning at him, eyes twinkling.

 

“Taka,” he said, breath ghosting across Takanori bottom lip, making him shiver slightly. “You’re smiling.”

 

“… Yeah… I guess I am,” the second year confessed. He felt like his mind was swimming in the most dreamlike state. So much so that he felt a little light-headed and ditzy; very much not like himself.

 

“You’ve never kissed anyone before, have you?” Akira inquired.

 

Takanori was quiet for a moment before he gave a small shake of his head. “…No… You could tell? Was I really that terrible?”

 

The third year laughed haughtily. “No, you were actually pretty good. I just figured you hadn’t. Did you like it though?” 

 

“… Yeah, I did,” Takanori smirked as he leaned forward and locked his lips with Akira’s again, feeling far more comfortable now than before. Kissing was a nice feeling, he could certainly see himself getting used to it even if it was with such a dim-witted birdbrain.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.

In the days that followed Takanori and Akira found themselves becoming far more comfortable around each other and, to Akira’s relief and joy, Takanori was beginning to be a little more open; or at least ~~,~~ far less guarded than he had been before. The third year didn’t want to push his luck though; he still had to let the small blond come around on his own. However, somewhat to Akira’s disappointment, Takanori insisted that they go on acting as though they didn’t know each other at all at school in order to save himself from any kind of interaction with other students. But it was noticeably more difficult for them once they’d settled into being around each other. It was hard for Takanori not to glance Akira’s way as they passed in the hallway, feeling the familiar tingle on his lips that he now seemed to crave; and vice-versa, Akira found it hard to not seek out the small second year whenever there was the possibility they’d be in the same vicinity.

 

Of course, Takanori hadn’t put up much of a fight when Akira had crawled his way into the small blond’s bed, making himself rather comfortable. Rather than kicking him out, like Akira had expected, Takanori had slunk under the blanket next to him and curled up at his side. The third year couldn’t help but smile as he nudged his arm around Takanori’s lithe waist, bringing their bodies closer together. Somehow, it just felt natural for both of them. It felt right.

 

Sometimes Takanori would disappear into the mysterious room down the hall for hours on end, leaving Akira to entertain himself with thoughts of what lay behind the richly painted mahogany. The room was clearly soundproof, as Akira never ever heard any noise escaping its confines. He had a burning curiosity to peep inside it when Takanori wasn’t around; however he refrained from doing so. If Takanori wanted to tell him he eventually would; that much was a given. So Akira made the decision to wait patiently for Takanori place to place his full trust in his elder housemate.

 

***

 

At the end of a tiring week at school the pair of blonds had come home rather exhausted, retreating to their respective rooms in order to shower and dress for the evening. After a relaxing shower they joined up again in the kitchen, Akira wearing his usual black sweat pants and Takanori in his signature short silk bottoms and oversized woollen jumper. Most nights Takanori would cook dinner, trying tirelessly to teach Akira _something_ about the useful skill. It completely evaded the small blond’s mind as to how the elder didn’t know a thing about cooking. He swore that idiotic birdbrain could burn water. Too tired to care, Takanori quickly whipped them up a satisfying meal and, after Akira had made quite a mess scarfing it down, they’d stacked the dishwasher and retreated into Takanori’s bedroom.

 

As soon as Akira’s head hit the pillow he felt the bed dip beside him and then felt the familiar sensation of Takanori’s soft blond locks against his bare chest. Draping an arm around the younger’s shoulder he pressed a chaste kiss to the top of Takanori’s head, feeling the second year slip an arm across his stomach. They both sighed contently. They’d quickly grown so used to this; it was as if they’d been around each other their whole lives. Sometimes Akira even felt like they were some kind of old married couple; the very thought made him chuckle to himself.

 

When the lights were turned out Akira’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light that filtered past the curtains produced by the moon. As he felt his eyes starting to droop, slowly coming closer and closer to sleep, the little blond shifted beside him. Akira felt the press of Takanori’s chin on his chest and when he peeked an eye open and looked down at the small blond he saw the younger gazing up at him with big, curious, hazel flecked brown orbs.

 

“What are you looking at, blondie?” Akira smirked, seeing the pout that formed on those cute lips.

 

“I don’t know, it hasn’t got a label on it,” Takanori retorted, poking out his tongue in a childish manner.

 

“Ha ha,” Akira faked amusement. “You’re so funny.”

 

“I know. I should totally be a comedian.”

 

Rolling his eyes, the elder brought the hand that wasn’t currently stroking Takanori’s waist up to comb through tousled blond locks. Feeling Takanori lean into his touch ever so slightly Akira thought about just how different the second year _really_ was. He was nothing like everyone thought he was like. Akira felt lucky; he was able to see a side of Takanori that no one had ever encountered before. Everyone thought the little second year was cold and arrogant; and while that may have been what he seemed at first glance, Akira had discovered that underneath that tough skin was a vulnerable, sweet and quite romantic softy with a bigger heart than he would like to admit. Akira had to admit; he’d grown quite attached to that side of the little blond.

 

“Akira…” Takanori’s hesitant voice cut into the elder’s thoughts.

 

“Mm?” Akira hummed as an indication for the younger to continue.

 

He could feel Takanori begin drawing small, absentminded patterns on the taut skin of his abdomen; the action sent a little shiver down his spine. “Why do you always wear that noseband?” The small blond questioned.

 

“Huh?” Akira opened his eyes and stared down at Takanori wondering where the question had come from. The second year had never shown any interest in knowing more about Akira, not even once had he asked a question that would indicate his interest in finding our more. It was an understatement to say that the blond third year was surprised by the sudden inquisition.

 

“I just…” Takanori glanced away and Akira thought he saw a faint tint of pink dusting those porcelain cheeks. “… Nevermind, it doesn’t matter.”

 

“No, tell me, Taka,” Akira insisted. “What do you want to know?”

 

Looking back up through thick lashes Takanori spoke quietly, though it was easily heard in the otherwise silent room. “I’ve just been curious about you. I-I want to know more… That’s all. But it doesn’t matter, don’t worry about it.”

 

Akira couldn’t help but smile. Takanori wanted to know more; that’s exactly what he’d just said. Finally, Akira felt like all of his hard work hadn’t gone to waste. His constant persistence and bugging had finally broken through Takanori’s thick barriers, and the little blond was coming out of his shell. Feeling overcome with joy, Akira leaned down, at the same time tilting Takanori’s head up, and planted his lips on top of the second year’s. Instantly, the younger reciprocated the affectionate gesture, practically melting into the elder blond’s embrace. Their lips danced for a few moments before Akira broke the contact, sucking in a small breath after being depraved of oxygen for a small amount of time. It was impossible to miss the definite blush on Takanori’s cheeks and the third year found himself smirking triumphantly. In only a matter of days he’d managed to make Takanori addicted to kissing him. It was a feat he never thought possible.

 

Leaning back, he folded one arm behind his head as the other continued to stroke along Takanori’s side. “I wear the noseband because, when I was younger, the other kids used to tell me I was ugly. In elementary school I used to get teased because I apparently had a weird, ugly nose.” Akira shrugged, “I guess everyone’s got their insecurities.”

 

Takanori gazed up at Akira as he spoke. He’d never even considered the possibility that the elder might’ve been bullied as a child and that’s why he covered up what he’d been told was an ugly feature. “So…” Takanori began as one particular thought clicked. “That day a month or so ago when we almost fought and I called you… ugly,” Takanori muttered the word, “You got angry at me because…”

 

“Because looks are a sensitive topic for me, and the word ugly just kind of triggers me,” Akira finished the sentence for him.

 

“I’m… sorry. I didn’t know. I-”

 

Takanori was interrupted as Akira chuckled lightly, “You don’t need to apologize, idiot.” Takanori grumbled a little at being called an idiot, but otherwise kept quiet as Akira began talking again. “If you had have known at the time that the word ugly would provoke me and get under my skin would you have used it at any opportunity you got?”

 

Takanori stayed quiet for a few moments, mulling over the question. Would he have? “… Yeah, probably.” At that time, anything he could do to get under the third year’s skin was a positive.

 

“Exactly. So there’s no need to apologize because it’s something you would’ve done regardless of whether you knew it was a sensitive topic for me or not.” He had a point, Takanori knew that; but he still felt that stinging guilt tug at his insides.

 

“But-”

 

“Shh,” Akira hushed the small blond by placing a finger against plush lips. “Be quiet. I said it fine.” Takanori glowered and opened his mouth to lightly latch his teeth onto Akira’s finger, applying a small amount of pressure, not enough to hurt though. Akira chuckled, “Oh, biting, huh? I didn’t know you were into that kinky shit.” The elder blond couldn’t help but break into loud laughter as Takanori quickly let go of his finger, flushing bright red.

 

“Shut up, birdbrain,” Takanori spat, delivering a slap to the elder’s abdomen. Akira continued to chuckle as he placed his hand behind his head again. The silence surrounded them again and Takanori nestled against the third year. “Akira, tell me about you.”

 

“What do you want to know?”

 

“I don’t know…” Takanori shrugged. “Everything, I guess.”

 

Akira chuckled, “Everything, huh?” He felt Takanori’s head moving against his chest as the smaller boy nodded. “Hmm…Where to start… from the beginning, I guess.” Akira took a breath, taking a moment to compose his thoughts before he began talking. “Well, I had a pretty normal childhood. I had friends, went to school, and did boyish things. I had my first crush when I was in third grade,” the elder blond chuckled fondly at the memory. “Her name was Yuuki and she was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen. She wasn’t interested though, what third grade girl would be. When you’re that age you still believe in cooties and all that stuff. Nothing ever came of that, unsurprisingly, because she moved away at the end of fifth grade; even today I don’t know where she went.” Akira shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

 

“When I was nine my sister was born, that was also when my dad walked out on us…” Akira trailed off for a moment. I remember coming home from school one afternoon to see my mother at the door with Koyuki in her arms and my father at the front gate with a large suitcase sitting next to him. My mother was crying and begging him not to go and do you know what my father said? He said “Shut the hell up you useless bitch”. It doesn’t really seem like that bad of an insult now, but to a nine year old hearing it come from his father directed at his mother it was like the worth thing in the world. I remember watching from the curb as my father climbed into our family car and sped off…” Akira sighed. “I haven’t seen him since then.”

 

Takanori shuffled around, flipping himself onto his stomach and propping his featherweight body up on his elbows. A certain pain reflected in his eyes and Akira recognized it, not as sympathy or pity, but empathy and understanding. It made a warm feeling spread throughout him and he reached out to brush his fingertips against the pale blond’s cheek. “Don’t give me that look, Taka. I’m fine now. It’s something I got over a long time ago.”

 

Takanori didn’t answer. He only climbed up further and leaned now to lock his plush lips with Akira’s. The kiss was tender and soft, making Akira feel like the younger boy was trying to tell him that he wasn’t alone and, somehow, the third year got the impression that Takanori understood his experience to some extent. Though, he guessed he’d probably have to wait for an explanation because he was suddenly yanked out of his tangled thoughts by the feeling of a warm tongue prodding at his bottom lip. Groaning a little, Akira opened his lips to let Takanori’s wet muscle slide in. The feeling was absolutely blissful. Akira loved the sensation of having Takanori eagerly moulding their mouths together, tongue caressing tongue. It made him like the little blond even more than he already did, though he didn’t really know why.

 

In a flurry of swift movements Akira sat up, briefly breaking the kiss so he could push Takanori’s back into the bed and straddle his thin waist. Takanori let out a small sound of surprise, but otherwise didn’t really protest at all as he let himself be taken completely under Akira’s control. Swooping down again, Akira returned his lips to where they’d been only seconds ago. The third year wondered, for probably the millionth time, how he’d ever wound up in this situation. He couldn’t think about the past though, all he could think about was the beautiful boy beneath him and how he was beginning to pant with want and need, and also a lack of oxygen.

 

Pulling back, Akira took a much needed breath as he paused and smoothed out Takanori’s messy blond hair. The younger stared up at him with a look he’d never seen before. It looked almost like total adoration with a hint of… lust? Akira smiled and leaned down to press his lips against each of Takanori’s cheeks before peppering light kisses down the smaller blond’s jawline and to his neck. As Akira passed over a portion of skin at the base of Takanori’s neck, where the little dip in the middle of the collarbone was, the small blond made a small moaning sound and turned his head to the side, almost as if he were embarrassed.

 

‘ _How cute_ ,’ Akira thought as he nibbled on the section of skin, lightly grazing his teeth over it. Another delectable sound emerged from between Takanori’s parted lips and it only served to drive the elder blond onwards. Snaking a hand downwards, Akira slid it underneath the hem of Takanori’s woollen jumper. A sound akin to what could only be described as a whimper left the second year’s vocal chords. The very unmanly sound must have made Takanori feel embarrassed because he quickly brought his hand up to clamp it over his mouth, ceasing any further sound from escaping.

 

Akira chuckled and reached up draw Takanori’s small hand away from his mouth. Nothing gave Akira greater pleasure than hearing pleased sounds leave those endearing lips. He loved the way they parted breathlessly as he continued to slide his hand over smooth skin. The sensation was just as wonderful as he’d imagined it would be, if not even better. Takanori’s flesh felt like the finest silk in the world; the little blond was all smooth curves and delicate softness and Akira found that he couldn’t get enough. He wanted more of this feeling, this warmth.

 

Returning his lips to Takanori’s, he let his kisses become more frantic and heated. Their breath mingled together, Takanori smelling of caramel and cinnamon and Akira of mint and something almost earthy, but pleasant. Akira groaned as he felt small hands grip his hair, pulling him further into the kiss and he felt like he might totally lose himself in Takanori. Not that he would’ve minded though. He would be quite happy to drown in everything that was the small second year any day.

 

When Takanori shifted a little underneath him Akira could feel a distinct hardness press against his thigh. Chuckling into the heated kiss Akira moved his hand south, resting it on Takanori’s hip, just above the waistline of those tempting, revealing shorts. He began stroking his fingers along the skin there; making Takanori shift again and Akira knew he could definitely feel the younger’s arousal brushing his upper thigh.

 

“What’re you laughing at?” Takanori breathed against Akira’s lips, panting a little from the frantic kisses that the elder had bestowed upon him.

 

Akira moved his head and latched his lips onto Takanori’s pale, swan-like neck leaving visible marks that would aid in claiming Takanori as his own. “Mm,” Akira hummed as his warm breath tickled the younger blond’s skin. “You’re hard.”

 

Suddenly, Akira felt Takanori tense up underneath him and the little blond squirmed a little. When he drew his head back he noticed that the second year had turned his own head away, messy blond locks covering cheeks that were clearly burning a crimson red. It was only when Takanori pulled his knees up and pushed on Akira shoulders did the third year realize that he may have just embarrassed the little blond.

 

Takanori grunted as he pushed his small hands against Akira’s stronger shoulders. “Get off me, idiot!”

 

The strong tone in the small blond’s made Akira realised that he’d really fucked up. He shouldn’t have said anything at all. He suddenly felt incredibly idiotic; he _knew_ all of this was a first for Takanori and he’d probably just totally humiliated the younger. Takanori had most likely never been around anyone when he was turned on. No one had ever touched Takanori the way Akira had just been and the elder blond felt like he’d really messed things up. Everything had been going so perfectly and he just _had_ to go and make a stupid comment before he’d even taken the time to think about how it would be taken from Takanori’s end. Truthfully, it was only meant to be harmless teasing, but he should’ve remembered how sensitive Takanori was before he went and did something so mindless and stupid. It would be a massive understatement to say that he felt like an absolute idiot.

 

“I said. Get. Off.” Takanori’s voice accompanied by a hard shove jarred the elder out of his thoughts. He found himself sitting up on his knees watching as Takanori scrambled up off the crumbled sheets, face flushed and clearly quite upset. It wasn’t hard for Akira to see just how turned on Takanori really was as the little blond had a rather prominent erection pushing against the fabric of his silk pyjama shorts. Oh, how stupid he felt when he realized that his little comment prevented him from exploring what was underneath those shorts.

 

“You’re such an idiot!” Takanori yelled, straightening out his oversized jumper and flicking his hair over his eyes in a useless attempt to hide the fact that his face was flushed pure red. “Get out of my room!”

 

“Huh?” Akira stumbled over his words, “Taka- I’m sorry- I-I didn’t… I mean-”

 

“Save it, fuckwit,” Takanori snapped. “Get out.”

 

Resembling something that looked very much like a kicked puppy, Akira stood up off the bed and shuffled his way out of the little blond’s room. With his tail between his legs he retreated back to his own room, having not slept there for almost a whole week. When he lied down in his empty bed the, sheets felt stiff and cold and unwelcoming; nothing like the warmth and comfort of being in Takanori’s bed with him. Akira had royally fucked up and now he was left with both a feeling of total idiocy and a raging boner.

 

***

 

The next morning when he woke up, Akira wasn’t sure whether or not he should cross the hallway to find out if Takanori had cooled off a little. Their steamy encounter the night before had ended the exact opposite of how he had both wanted and expected. But when he really thought about it, should Takanori really have gotten angry at him? How was he to know the little blond would react like that? Thinking of these variables gave him the reassurance to rap loudly on the door to the second year’s bedroom at around midday.

 

At first he didn’t receive any answer, but after continuous knocking for almost ten minutes the door finally flew open to reveal a very tired and grumpy looking blond; hair a mess and dark circles under his eyes. If looks could kill Akira swore he would’ve dropped dead at that exact moment in time.

 

“What do you want, Akira?” The venom in Takanori’s voice was palpable.

 

Akira took a deep breath, running a hand though his messy blond hair as he began speaking, “Look, Taka. I… I wanted to apologize for the comment I made last night…” His voice dropped to a low mumble, “Even though you didn’t really have any reason to get angry at me.”

 

The shock was evident on Takanori’s still drowsy face. “ _Excuse you_? Didn’t have a reason to get angry at you? You’ve got to be kidding me!”

 

Akira put his hands on his hips and scowled, “No, I’m not ‘ _kidding you_ ’-” he made a crappy, sarcastic impression of Takanori’s voice to accompany the phrase he repeated–“ _You_ overreacted.”

 

“Overreacted?!” Takanori screeched as rage overcame his feature. “How the fuck did I overreact? _You_ totally ruined the moment with your _stupid_ comment. God, you’re such a fucking idiot, Akira! Everything was going fine until you decided to open your big, stupid mouth!”

 

In the moment Takanori reminded Akira of a little child throwing a tantrum. He couldn’t help but scoff internally at the ridiculously childish insults the small blond had thrown his way. “Yeah, you overreacted,” Akira countered. “You don’t think people say that to each other?” His mind was beginning to cloud over with anger as he watched Takanori roll his eyes as if the elder really were incredibly stupid. Suddenly he felt like he’d had enough of the little blond’s shit. The midget always had some kind of insult ready for him, whether it was ‘idiot’ or a ‘fuckwit’ or something similar. Takanori always treated him like he was some kind of incompetent child, just like everyone else seemed to; teachers, friends, even his mother sometimes, and the condescending look that filtered across Takanori’s face as if _he_ were the one overreacted made Akira’s anger finally boil over. “People say shit like that, you know. I can’t even count how many times I’ve told a girl how wet she is just before I fuck her. Most guys find it stimulating when I mention how hard they are for me. But you wouldn’t know that, would you? _You_ wouldn’t know what people say to each other when they’re about to have sex because you’re just a scared little virgin-boy. Poor, scared little virgin-boy, Takanori. You’re pathetic! You know everyone else in our school has had sex; but you’re too busy pretending that you live in your own little world where everyone wants to lie and cheat you and hurt you to notice. News flash virgin-boy; Wake. The. Fuck. Up. You’re not that special! So _stop_ acting like it!”

 

In the next moment Akira heard a loud _smack_ reverberate through the room and a second later felt the stinging sensation through his left cheek. It was then that he realized Takanori had given him a hard slap across the face. When he glanced over at the little blond, anger slowly seeping out of his veins, he noticed the tears that pricked the corners of the younger’s eyes. A single drop trickled down Takanori’s pale cheek and in an instant Akira’s rage totally vanished only to be replaced by an overwhelming amount of guilt.

 

“Takanori… I…” He started, not really knowing what to say. What had he just said? He’d been too angry to even comprehend the words that fell from his mouth

 

He watched as the little blond clenched his fists tightly, the little balls if flesh trembling slightly. Takanori’s plump bottom lip trembled and Akira could tell that he was trying desperately to his tears back. “Leave me alone,” he mumbled almost incoherently; so much so that Akira had to strain to hear what he’d said.

 

“Wait, Takanori. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean that, I…” He reached forward to take the younger boy’s hand only to have his arm harshly slapped away.

 

“Fuck off!” Takanori screamed in the ender blond’s face before slamming his bedroom door shut. A moment later Akira head the sound of a lock clicking into place.

 

 _‘Great_ ,’ he thought. ‘ _He’s going to stay locked in his room for God knows how long.’_ What exactly had he done now?


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.

Takanori didn’t talk to Akira for the rest of the weekend. In fact, the little blond didn’t even come out of his room during the day; only late at night when Akira guessed he finally got hungry enough. Of course he tried to talk to the second year, to get him to understand, but Takanori completely ignored him and when he’d tried to grab hold of the younger’s wrist he’d received another harsh slap across the face. Akira wasn’t surprised though; what he’d said to Takanori had really been horrible and he felt completely overcome by guilt. It was constantly tugging at his insides, making him feel sick to the stomach. How could he have said something so cruel to Takanori?

 

The guilt gnawed at Akira’s insides and eventually, on Sunday night, he tried to speak to Takanori properly, but of course the little blond wanted absolutely nothing to do with Akira and didn’t leave his room all night, not even to get food like he had done the night before. But the third year refused to give up. He knew he had to make it up to Takanori somehow so instead of retreating back to his own room like he probably should’ve, Akira sat down next to the door to the little blond’s room and pulled his knees up to his chest and waited.

 

Akira waited outside Takanori’s door almost all night. He wanted to knock but he wasn’t sure if the second year was sleeping or not. He hadn’t heard any small footsteps coming from the other side of the door, but Akira knew for a fact that Takanori was very light on his feet anyway which mean he could’ve snuck into bed without the elder even knowing. But, at the same time, Akira imagined him to be doing one of the things he did best; brooding. Akira could almost picture Takanori sitting up by his window with his legs tucked up close to his body and his chin resting on his knees as he thought long and hard about the words Akira regretted blurting out. Akira sighed as he thought about school the next day, deciding at around three in the morning that it’d probably be best if he did try to actually get some sleep. So, regrettably, he hauled himself off the floor and trudged back to his own room in order to ready himself for bed.

 

Takanori didn’t go to school on Monday or Tuesday or Wednesday, and by Thursday Akira was starting to become concerned. He’d had no choice but to attend school; if he wanted to keep his grades up like he’d promised his mother, then he had to go. But just because he sat in a classroom all day didn’t mean that he totally forgot about the little blond locked in his room at home. In fact, it was all Akira _could_ think about, and the more he tried to forget the more he thought about it. The amount of clutter in his mind was ridiculous.

 

During lunch hour on Thursday, Akira strolled out of his history class to see a lithe raven haired figure leaning against the opposite wall, arms folded over a narrow chest. Akira stopped, not saying anything, and just stared at the second year boy who gave him a knowing look. Following after him as he pushed off the wall, Akira was lead out of the emergency exit and out onto the landing he often saw Takanori escaping to whether it was lunch time or class time.

 

The raven haired boy leaned his elbows on the frosted railing; the days were getting colder as December approached, but despite the cold Akira looked to the sky and noticed dark storm clouds gathering overhead. He followed the second year’s lead and leaned his blazer-clad arms on the railing, shaking his head at the cigarette the other offered to him.

 

Once the cancer stick was lit and held between two long, ebony tipped fingers Aoi spoke in his usual calm, cool voice. “Something happened.”

 

Akira couldn’t help but scoff at the raven’s bluntness; once again he’d managed to hit the nail right on the head. Akira had no doubt in his mind that Aoi had been observing him since he got to school on Monday morning; that just seems exactly like something he’d do. “Yeah,” Akira answered. “Something happened.”

 

“And Takanori is upset.”

 

Another scoff. “Understatement of the century.” When Aoi glance at Akira out of the corner of his eye the blond grumbled, “You know what he’s like. He’s so oversensitive.”

 

“He has good reason to be,” Aoi stated and Akira expected him to continue but, of course, he didn’t. He only returned his gaze to the urban landscape panned out in front of them, giving no indication that he was going to elaborate and clue Akira in on what exactly went on inside Takanori’s mind. He assumed Aoi had a pretty good idea, seeing as how he was so amazingly good at reading everyone else. He imagined Takanori would be a challenge, but not an impossible feat.

 

Akira rolled his and looked up at the darkening sky; god he hoped it didn’t start raining until he got back home. What the hell was Aoi talking about? What reason could Takanori have to be so sensitive about everything? He wished the blond midget’s friend wasn’t such a weirdo, and then he might actually be able to get some answers out of the enigmatic raven.

 

“You should ask him,” Aoi’s voice pulled Akira from his internal monologue. It was almost like the raven had known exactly what he was thinking.

 

“You’ve got to be shitting me, right?” He raised his eyebrows as he looked at the second year student beside him who still wouldn’t even turn and look at him. “Ask Takanori a serious question about himself? That’s got to be the craziest idea I’ve heard in my life. I mean, come on, it’s been hard enough to get him to open up about simple stuff, do you seriously think he’d tell me if I asked him why he reacted so sensitively to everything?”

 

“Yes,” Aoi finally turned and looked Akira straight in the eye and the look the raven gave him almost sent shivers down his spine. Aoi looked so serious, so absolutely sure of himself. Like his word was the be all and end all. “But… not without an exchange.”

 

Akira’s brow furrowed as he shook his head incredulously, blond bangs falling into his eyes momentarily before he flipped them out of the way, “What do you mean ‘not without an exchange’?”

 

At that moment the distant sound of thunder reverberated through the sky; a storm was rolling in. Akira glanced upwards quickly before looking back at Aoi who regarded him with a knowing stare. “Takanori won’t share his fears with you unless you share yours with him. It’s a simple exchange.”

 

Aoi threw him a lingering gaze before stamping out his cigarette and disappearing back into the building, leaving Akira behind to ponder what he’d said. The wind picked up as the unseasonal storm blew in rather quickly. With one more glance towards the sky Akira tightened his school blazer around his figure and scurried inside the school building as another, closer rumble of thunder echoed through the sky.

 

His fears…

 

***

 

Takanori sat nestled against the fogged glass of the window, his slight figure allowing his behind to fit comfortably on the wide windowsill. He stared out over the gravel driveway leading up to his house; this was where he’d spent most of his days since the incident on the previous Friday night. He didn’t want to face Akira, he couldn’t, and so he’d remained cooped up in his room for almost an entire week. What the older blond had said to him had really gotten inside his brain and messed with it. Had he really overreacted? He was beginning to think so. But could Akira really blame him? After all, he’d never done anything like that before and pointing out that fact that he was hard made him feel so embarrassed. He felt like Akira had been laughing at him, making fun of him. But was he really a scared little virgin boy like the elder had told him? ‘ _Probably_ ,’ he thought. He just didn’t know how to react in that situation and his first instinct had been hostility, just as it had always been and he had to admit that was probably one of his biggest weaknesses in life.

 

Takanori heaved a sigh and leaned his forehead against the cold glass. ‘ _Akira should be back from school soon_ ,’ he thought. Every day after school Akira would come to his door and knock, hoping that Takanori would open up and talk to him but every day the younger refused. He knew it frustrated Akira but he really didn’t think he would be able to face the third year. He listened as thunder rolled through the sky, getting louder and louder as the storm approached. It was probably going to be a big one; the clouds hung dark and heavy with rain, threatening to spill gallons of water at any given moment, and even though it was still day time the young blond could see the bright flashes of lightening in the sky. He couldn’t help but hope Akira didn’t get caught up in it on his way home.

 

It wasn’t even twenty minutes later when Takanori spied the front gate of his property sliding open to let in a figure that seemed to walk rather hurriedly down the gravel driveway. Thunder clapped loud in the sky and Takanori watched as Akira broke into a jog, probably not wanting to get caught in the rain. He knew the house was dark and he wondered if that klutzy blond would trip on anything on the way in; Takanori almost smiled at the notion.

 

Takanori heard the sound of footsteps clambering up the stairs and into the room across from his. This was the way it normally worked; Akira would come upstairs, throw his school bag in his room and then cross the hallway to call through the wood of Takanori’s door. The little blond waited for the knock that was soon to come, getting ready to finally open the door and talk face to face with the third year.

 

But the knock never came, and Takanori frowned, confused; what was he doing? Akira had made it pretty clear that he wanted to talk to Takanori, so why would he just suddenly decide to give up? That wasn’t like Akira _at all_. That stubborn bird was most definitely not the type to give up on something so easily. After some contemplating on whether or not he should venture across the hallway and see what was going on, Takanori decided to stay put a little longer. After all, Akira could just be tired from a long day at school, or he could be taking a shower, or he could’ve just given up on trying to get Takanori out of his room. The little blond settled back against the window, waiting for when Akira came out to get dinner; that was when he would finally confront the elder blond.

 

By seven that evening the storm had really begun to kick in; rain pelted down outside, making it difficult to see even an arms-length in front of oneself, if you were to be outside in the downpour that is. Every minute or two lightening would flash, momentarily lighting up the night sky before a booming crack of thunder followed just seconds afterwards, so loud it could be deafening. Takanori glanced at his own closed bedroom door, in the past few hours he hadn’t heard any noise from the hallway at all and there had been no lights switched on which lead him to believe that Akira was still in his bedroom.

 

Giving up and deciding he’d had enough of waiting, Takanori slipped off the windowsill and quietly exited his room, bare feet quietly padding against the expensive carpet of the hallway. He’d had this gnawing feeling in his gut all afternoon that something just wasn’t right but elected to ignore it, Akira was a big boy after all and he didn’t need Takanori snooping around. However the ominous feeling had grown too large to ignore. The hallway between Takanori’s and Akira’s rooms was eerily quiet and every time lightening flashed outside it lit up the hallway, casting creepy shadows on the walls. I was almost like a scene from a bad horror movie and Takanori wondered if he would find Akira’s dead body moments before he himself was slaughtered. But that was just stupid and Takanori shook his head at himself for even conjuring up such a dumb idea.

 

Takanori was about to knock on the door but froze when a boom of thunder sounded followed by a… sob? No, that couldn’t be a sob because it came from inside Akira’s room. Shaking it off as a trick of the ear he knocked lightly and after receiving no reply he knocked again only to receive the same result. Becoming a little impatient, Takanori closed his hand around the doorknob and slowly pushed the door open.

 

At first Takanori was greeted by total darkness, but as his eyes adjusted he looked to Akira’s bed to see a rather noticeable lump under the blankets. The lump appeared to be moving up and down ever so slightly which meant it _had_ to be Akira. But what was he doing under there. Takanori had the fleeting thought that he’d better not be jacking off, because that would just make things unbelievably awkward. But the little blond discarded that thought along with his axe-murderer theory as he began approaching slowly. A little apprehensively, Takanori kneeled down beside the bed.

 

“…Akira?” He whispered. The figure under the blankets gasped softly at the sound of someone else’s voice  and seemed to shrink down a little, almost as if it were trying to merge itself with the bed and become invisible. Slowly, Takanori grasped the edge of the covers in his small fist and pulled them downwards. At that moment the room lit up with lightening and, of course, the thunder followed soon after and Takanori watched as Akira clamped his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut and scrunching his face up. The second year watched with wide eyes as the boy on the bed before him slowly lowered his hands from his ears and raised his head to look directly at Takanori. Unconsciously, the little blond reached forward and pressed his fingertips to Akira’s tear stained cheeks and that’s when it hit him that this seemingly tough third year was really crying.

 

“…Akira, you’re…” Takanori paused, still feeling the moisture on his fingertips. “You’re afraid of thunderstorms, aren’t you?”

 

Akira lowered his head, clearly embarrassed, and nodded. It’d be stupid of him to deny anything, after all Takanori could see him, plain as day, with tear’s streaked down his uncovered cheeks and red, bloodshot eyes. “Go on, shorty. Laugh it up,” his voice came out gruff and hoarse from crying, but the underlying tone was bitter.

 

Takanori didn’t say anything, only watching for a few minutes as a thunder continued to sound and Akira continued to cower. He really couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Akira was afraid. Takanori had never really seen the elder blond show any kind of great weakness. He was always playing the tough guy, like some kind of hero out of a crappy romance novel. But now that Takanori saw a rawer side to Akira, it made the third year seem more human. Because no one was afraid of nothing and now Takanori knew what Akira was afraid of, he felt just that little bit closer to the elder. Takanori soon realized he was staring and his senses returned as he pulled the covers back more, rising up to sit on the mattress and slip his small feet under the covers, settling down beside the shivering blond. Pulling the covers up and over their heads, Takanori shifted onto his side and gently brought Akira into an embrace. It felt odd to be holding Akira in that way seeing as he usually seemed so strong and masculine; it didn’t seem like him at all to be cradled in someone else’s arms, and yet there they were. But Takanori wasn’t going to say he didn’t like it. In fact, being the stronger one for once gave him a funny fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach; he felt useful.

 

“What are you-?”

 

Akira’s question was cut off by a loud strike of thunder reverberating through the walls and in an instant his face was tucked into the crook of Takanori’s neck, cynical question totally forgotten for a moment. “Shh,” Takanori cooed into the nest of bleached tresses, running his hand through Akira’s hair that was slightly damp with sweat while his other hand rubbed soothing circles on the third year’s back, he hadn’t even bothered to change out of his school uniform. “And I’m not going to laugh at you. I would never laugh at you about something like this.”

 

“What do you mean…?” Akira began, blocking his ears again as thunder sounded. “…‘Something like this’?”

 

Takanori hummed, playing with a few strands of hair as he rested his chin atop Akira’s head. “This is a genuine fear. I would never laugh at you about being genuinely afraid of something, Akira.” Takanori paused, “Would you laugh at me if I told you I was afraid of being alone?”

 

Akira shook his head, sniffling quietly. “Are you though?” Akira asked, his voice muffled by the skin of Takanori’s neck. “… Are you afraid of being alone?”

 

Takanori was silent for a few moments before he sighed and placed a gentle kiss on the crown on Akira’s head, nuzzling his nose into blond strands and shutting his eyes. “Yes. I am.”

 

“But why?” Akira questioned hesitantly, not knowing if asking so many questions would set the little blond off or cause him to retreat back into himself like he normally did. But it seemed that what Aoi had told him earlier was true. Not that he’d intentionally planned for Takanori to see him this way; but now that the little blond had seen his weakness and knew his biggest fear he seemed more willing to open up to Akira. “Why are you afraid of being alone when all you seem to want to do is push people away?”

 

“Because I’m afraid that…”Takanori stopped and took a deep breath as the storm continued to rage on outside, Akira jumping and clinging to Takanori’s waist tightly whenever thunder clapped. “… I’m afraid that if I let someone in they’re just going to leave. Then I’ll be worse off than I was before.”

 

“Why do you think people are going to leave you?”

 

“Well, do you see my parents around anywhere?” Takanori returned Akira’s question with one of his own. “They haven’t been around since I was about thirteen. Once they knew I could look after myself they left. I’m lucky if I even get a birthday and Christmas card from them.”

 

Akira sniffed, it sounded like the storm was finally starting to pass over because the thunder sounded a little more distant and the lightning was flashing at longer intervals than it had been; but Akira still didn’t want to emerge from his hiding place. “But not everyone is your parents, Taka.”

 

“I know that,” Takanori answered with a frown. “But my parents are the people who should’ve stuck around above everyone else and yet, they didn’t. They treat me like their fucking live-in maid; someone who’s just around to look after their house when they’re away.”

 

Akira could tell that Takanori was starting to get agitated, but at the same time he felt like there was something the second year wasn’t telling him. Apart from the live-in maid part, Akira got the feeling that the younger blond was talking about someone else, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on whom. In an attempt to calm Takanori down, Akira lifted his head from the crook of the little blond’s neck and shifted so he was laying at eyelevel with him. Gazing into Takanori’s troubled face he couldn’t help but frown. “It’s alright, Taka.”

 

“Huh?” Takanori questioned, frown deepening a little as he shot a questioning gaze at the elder blond.

 

“It’s alright because,” Akira stopped and leaned his forehead against Takanori’s, “I’m not going to leave. I promise.” In the next instant Akira felt two cold hands on his cheeks and a pair of soft lips on his own. It took him a moment to register that Takanori was kissing him, but when he did he closed his arms around the small blond’s waist and pulled the second year’s body flush against his own. He realized now how much he’d really missed this; the feeling of having Takanori near him, being able to touch him and kiss him, even just _talk_ to him without any kind of resistance. Over the past week it felt like they’d retreated back to square one where Takanori was reclusive and near impossible to reach. But it didn’t feel that way anymore and Akira smiled into the kiss.

 

Takanori pulled away and gave Akira a small smile. With one hand still on the third year’s cheeks, Takanori’s thumb glided over his cheek and wiped away what remained of the tears that’d been there not so long ago. Akira tilted his face into Takanori’s hand and kissed his palm tenderly, whispering, “Taka, I’m so sorry about what I said to you last week.”

 

Takanori leaned up and placed a kiss on Akira’s forehead, “Its ok. It was my fault, really. You were right, I shouldn’t have overreacted the way that I did. But… I’ve just never… you know, been touched like that before.” Takanori felt his cheeks heating up and he was hoping Akira wouldn’t be able to see it through the darkness that encased them.

 

“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” Akira said, reaching up and grasping the hand that still rested lightly on his cheek. _Damn_ , Akira had seen his blush. “I was an arsehole. I should’ve known not to laugh, I get that it probably felt like I was making fun of you, but I wasn’t I promise. I would never make fun of you in a situation like that. And I definitely shouldn’t have said the things that I did. I was mad and I lost my temper.”

 

Takanori chuckled. Clearly they were both feeling as guilty as each other. “Well how about we put it behind us, then? We’ll move on so we don’t have to worry about it anymore?”

 

Akira grinned and nodded, he was all for moving forward and leaving that whole little ordeal buried in the dust behind them. He wasn’t sure if it was the best time to ask, but he thought he may as well while Takanori was still feeling relaxed and open. Taking a breath Akira peered at Takanori through the darkness, “So… do you still want to… you know? Or have I put you off it?”

 

If the heat in his cheeks was bad before, Takanori was positive that they were absolutely on fire now. Of course he still wanted to! But, how could he tell Akira something so embarrassing? “Um… I guess- I mean, I suppose I want to…” He replied in a meek voice that was very uncharacteristic of him.

 

“There’s no need to act so shy, Taka,” Akira chuckled. “It’s a perfectly natural thing.”

 

“Yeah, but… I’m new to everything,” he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling totally and utterly stupid in his self-conscious, mumbley state. “I…I won’t, you know, know what to do. What if I’m really bad?”

 

Akira felt his heart clench in his chest at the way the second year student stared up at him with wide, worry-filled eyes, his trimmed eyebrows pulled together. The third year smoothed a hand through Takanori’s hair. “You’ll be fine,” he comforted. “I’ll help you.”

 

“But won’t that make you impatient?” Takanori wondered absently.

 

Akira chuckled again, “Probably. But I’m willing wait and help you so that you don’t feel totally awkward. That’d just be careless of me to do that. I want you to enjoy it as much as I will, Taka.”

 

Takanori’s cheeks flared up again at the thought of sleeping with Akira. He wasn’t going to lie, he _really_ wanted to. He wanted to feel Akira’s skin against his without the barrier of clothes. He wanted to feel every inch of the elder blond. And, in return, he wanted Akira to touch him the way no one had ever touched him before. He felt like every day his body was aching with the need for some kind of contact.

 

“Taka,” Akira’s voice broke through the little blond’s thoughts and he turned his attention back to the elder boy in front of him. “Go on a date with me this Saturday?”

 

Takanori blinked a few times. A date? With Akira? He’d never been on a date before. What did people even do on dates? Did they really hold hands and kiss and buy each other ice cream and walk around the park? Dates were usually where people shared their first kiss together, but they were already far past that stage. So what did that mean? Takanori really hoped Akira wasn’t planning on making a move on him in public! That’d be bad. But that idea was thrown out the window to land on top of the pile of other stupid ideas he’d come up with that night. Possibilities circulated through his mind at a hundred miles an hour but somehow, through the clutter, Takanori managed to nod his head and mutter a small, “Yes.”

 

Akira beamed and pulled Takanori towards him again, planting a kiss on his slightly parted lips. The contact only lasted for a few moments and it seemed to Takanori that Akira wasn’t going to push his luck tonight by kissing him for longer and leaving lingering touches. While Takanori was a little disappointed, he knew that he wouldn’t be up for any experimenting that night. He just wanted to sleep and so he settled in closer to Akira’s body, moulding himself to the third year and tucking his face into his neck. Sighing contently, Takanori felt sleep slowly drawing closer. He was glad everything had been put behind them and, somehow, he felt like he and Akira were a little closer now.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.

Sunday was a day that came far too quickly and yet not soon enough for Akira. The blond third year had been on so many dates he’d lost track by the time he was one month into his second year of high school and he was never nervous because dates for him always meant one thing; sex. But this date was different; this was a date with Takanori, the boy who’d captured his interest so wholly that he could barely go a day without somehow being in his presence. This date wasn’t about sex, it wasn’t about building up his infamous reputation, it wasn’t about another mindless pawn whose only purpose would be to get him off. This was a boy he was actually serious about and he figured that’s why he was so nervous; because he didn’t want to screw this one up. Before he could screw up a date and then never talk to the person again because he didn’t care, but with Takanori he couldn’t afford to screw anything up because he wanted this.

 

After waking up early to have a shower, Akira styled his hair and put on a pair of nice washed out jeans, a t-shirt with the words ‘Red Hot Chilli Peppers’ written across the front in a splattered paint effect, as well as a scuffed up leather jacket. With a deep breath and slightly shaky hands, Akira picked up his noseband off his bedside table and tied it securely at the back of his neck. Takanori’s bedroom door was still closed when Akira exited his own room and has he crossed the hallway he could hear noise coming from the behind that dark wood followed by a _thump_ and a loud ‘fuck!’ The blond couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. He loved how clumsy Takanori was and how he would stubbornly insist that he never needed help, only to come back a moment later and quietly mumbled about how he needed Akira to give him a hand with something. It was one of the many endearing qualities about the second year. He was grouchy and stubborn and a bit of an arse sometimes, but Akira could never get enough of him.

 

Once he stood outside Takanori’s door, Akira lifted a hand and knocked twice, “Taka, are you ready yet?” Surely, Akira thought, he couldn’t have too much to do. He’d told Takanori not to get too dressed up because he didn’t have enough money to take him to some fancy restaurant or anything; as much as he would’ve liked to. Unfortunately since Akira had stopped working his pay had also stopped, meaning he couldn’t afford some huge expensive date. Takanori had only shaken his head and mumbled that he’d much prefer a low-key kind of thing. Akira wondered why the second year wouldn’t want to go to a fancy restaurant, it seemed like it’d be right up his alley seeing as he lived in such a huge house with expensive furniture and clothing and food. But Akira guessed he should’ve known better by now; that judging Takanori based off the house he lived in never got him anywhere good. So he’d just shrugged and said he’d figure something out.

 

“Not yet!” Takanori’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door as well as the shuffling of feet and then the wood peaked open an inch or two. Akira watched as Takanori, who was only clad in a pair of ridiculously tight black jeans, opened the door enough for him to step through. “You can come and wait in here. I’ve only got to do a few more things.”

 

Akira walked into Takanori’s room which had clothes flung everywhere; it was messier than the third year had ever seen it and it made him chuckle to think that Takanori had so frantically been searching for an outfit for the day. When his gaze strayed to the little blond, who closed the door and walked past him, Akira’s jaw almost hit the floor. Akira didn’t think he’d ever seen Takanori shirtless before and now that he had he wanted to see more. The blond second year’s skin was perfectly smooth and flawless, the contours of his shoulder blades and spine tempting Akira to want to touch and feel. With careful steps, the taller boy approached Takanori, who was pondering over three shirts that lay spread out on his bed, and reached a hand out, lightly brushing his fingertips over the milky skin of Takanori’s waist. The second year stiffened slightly and glanced at Akira over his shoulder as the third year lay his palm flat against silky skin.

 

“What are you doing, Akira?” Takanori questioned quietly and Akira could feel the shiver under his hand as goosebumps prickled on Takanori’s skin. He’d been worried that the small blond would push him away and yell at him for being such an idiot; but he was glad when Takanori did nothing but stare at him, almost as if he were waiting to find out what Akira would do next.

 

Still totally mesmerized, Akira slid his other hand against the other side of Takanori’s waist feeling the silky smooth texture of the younger boy’s skin against his rough palms. It was heavenly, Akira thought. How could anyone feel this good? How was it that after he’d laid his hands on so many people, none of them ever felt like this? In that moment he was convinced that Takanori was perfect. Akira stepped closer and slid his arms around Takanori’s waist so he could lay them flat against the small blond’s abdomen, feeling it shudder slightly under his touch. The elder blond pulled Takanori back until he stumbled and landed flush against Akira’s chest. Akira nuzzled his covered nose just above Takanori’s ear and breathed the scent that was totally unique to him, before smiling and humming contently.

 

“You’re so perfect.” Akira found himself mumbling, only to have Takanori chuckle and ask him what he was talking about. Akira couldn’t help but smile as he closed his eyes and leaned his head down to place scattered kisses against the smaller blond’s shoulder, totally enjoying the feeling of that smooth skin against his lips. “You’re grumpy and stubborn and childish and rude…” Akira trailed off and reopened his eyes, placing a kiss against Takanori’s jaw. “But you’re perfect.”

 

Takanori’s frame shook against Akira’s as he chuckled and turned his face to look at Akira with an expression that was both amused and suspicious. “What the hell’s gotten into you?” He questioned. “Are you trying to coax me into bed before we’ve even gone on a date? I’m not that cheap, Akira. You should know that by now.” Takanori frowned and pursed his plump lips in mock offence.

 

Akira laughed and drew his face back to look at the small blond. He hadn’t at all expected Takanori to start cracking jokes about sleeping with him, but he guessed he should’ve known; Takanori liked to make a joke out of things that made him a little uneasy in an attempt to hide that unease. Akira decided to play along with the joking atmosphere and moved his hands against Takanori’s abdomen slightly, teasing the skin under his fingertips. “Well you opened the door looking so tempting, I just couldn’t help but notice how delicious you look.” Akira emphasized his statement by leaning down and lightly grazing his teeth against the bare skin of Takanori’s shoulder.

 

“Mmm, don’t do that,” Takanori squirmed a little bit in Akira’s hold in an attempt to free himself but Akira held tight, continuing to nibble on delicate skin. “Akira…stop,” the little blond couldn’t help but giggle slightly at the ticklish yet arousing feeling of teeth and lips on his skin.

 

Akira growled quietly, enjoying the effect he was having on Takanori and bit just a little harder. A surprised yelp left the second year’s lips and he twisted, successfully freeing himself from Akira’s grip, spinning to pin the third year with a glare as his hand held his shoulder where a small bruise was beginning to form. Akira stared sheepishly as Takanori mumbled something about needing to use to the bathroom before he scrambled around his bed and slammed the door to the bathroom shut, leaving Akira standing in his room totally bewildered. Had he gone too far again? Surely not. Takanori seemed ok with it all, he would’ve been able to tell if the little blond was uncomfortable, he knew well enough what that was like.

 

Scratching the back of his head sheepishly, Akira sighed and glanced around Takanori’s room with a frown etched into his brow. The damn midget really had made a mess of the place. Shaking his head, Akira began picking up items of clothing off the floor; shirts, pants, socks, and even a few pairs of underwear. Seriously, why was Takanori worrying about what kind of underwear he wore? Pulling open the dark mahogany chest of draws, Akira began stuffing the clothes back inside. Takanori probably wouldn’t be happy with his packing-away skills but he’d just have to deal with it later, for the moment Akira just felt like he needed something to do to keep himself occupied.

 

Opening up one of the bottom draws, where Takanori most likely kept his pants, Akira began stuffing them in. He reached down to move one already folded pair to the side he could fit the unfolded ones in when his fingers brushed against a thick notebook. After analysing it for a moment Akira recognized it as the journal Takanori wrote all of his lyrics in. The blond third year knew he really shouldn’t look at it but there was that ever present wonder and itching curiosity at the back of his mind whenever he saw the dark bound leather book. Biting his lip, Akira took it out and placed the pants he’d been holding to the side. He knew he really shouldn’t have been doing it, but he had to. He had to know what Takanori was so secretive about all the damn time.

 

The book was thick and stuffed with pages, many of them with tattered edges and dog-eared corners marking songs that Takanori obviously needed to work on or complete. Akira saw the familiar lyrics that he’d read the day he had really started to become fascinated by the blond second year. _“Hello my dear, kill me gently…”_ Akira wondered what those lyrics meant. He guessed that Takanori wasn’t really one to write useless empty lyrics; Takanori just didn’t strike him as that kind of person. Hence the lyrics in the book had to have meant _something_. Akira just didn’t know what.

 

As he quickly flicked through the book, catching snippets of different songs, Akira became even more intrigued. There was one song called _Cassis_ that really grabbed his attention; it seemed like a beautiful song. From what he could tell it was about separation, but not the bad kind. It was the kind of separation that made you stronger as a person and he smiled at the lyrics as he read them.

 

… _Even if your feelings go away in the future,_  
I’ll definitely keep loving you  
Even if you can’t see me in the future,  
I’ll definitely keep loving you…

When Akira reached the end of Takanori’s scrawling handwriting he noticed a song that’s lyrics weren’t yet complete. At the top of the page it was dated 17th October; the day that Akira had found himself outside Takanori’s door at two o’clock in the morning. It was obviously a song that he’d been writing over a certain period of time because he’d used different colours pens and his handwriting was slightly different each time, showing that he’d written the lyrics on different occasions.

 

 _I’ve been searching for something recklessly, and since it’s okay to stumble I continue on  
I understand I look foolish, but I keep at it so I wouldn’t have regrets  
I could trust only myself, and I didn’t need something like friends  
The fangs I bared at anything and everything, the wings of puberty fragilely fleeting  
I want to become strong, have the strength to live on my own  
Actually, I’m just afraid of being betrayed  
When you do nothing but flee, nothing changes either  
I know that, yet I’m unable to change  
The loneliness I prided myself on  
Those were my wings for running away to a useless ideal  
Triumphantly, I held up a __「_ _RIOT_ _」_ _called self-assertion_  
Because beyond this light  
Wasn’t anything like liberty  
Teenage Bluely Days  
I was indulging in every one of those boisterous days  
When I realized it, I’d already been burdened by loneliness  
It was painful. Because I wasn’t really hoping  
To be lonely  
The loneliness I prided myself on  
Those were my wings for running away to a useless ideal  
Triumphantly, I held up a RIOT called self-assertion  
Because beyond this light  
Wasn’t anything like liberty  
When you do nothing but pretend, you end up forgetting your true self  
So sometimes, it’s important to relax and rely on somebody else  
When I get hurt…and feel like crying, I turn to the sky and scream loudly  
I don’t want to forget myself  
I want to be as I am…

 

The song was titled _Miseinen_ and it was one of the only songs in the book that Akira actually understood. He knew that these were Takanori exact feelings; even if the little blond had never actually said all of them aloud Akira knew. He knew how Takanori felt. He just wished the song was finished so he could know how it ended. But he thought that maybe the reason it wasn’t finished yet was because there wasn’t an end to the story yet which made him smile and wonder if he would have an impact on the ending.

 

Akira was about to shut the book when suddenly a small bundle of papers fell out of the back. The few pieces of paper scattered on the floor and Akira cursed as he bent down to pick them up and quickly place them away before returning the book to its rightful place. He’d thought they were just spare pages of lyrics but as he picked them up one by one he realized that they were documents; legal documents. Frowning, the blond third year shuffled through the first few before picking up the last one and feeling his heart plummet to the pit of his stomach as his jaw fell slack. The header on the paper read ‘ _Tokyo Department of Public Health_ ’ plus a name and an address. Skipping further down the document Akira swallowed hard as he read the next heading…

 

 _Certificate of Adoption_.

 

What followed was the ‘child’s name before adoption’: _Mizushima Takanori_. It was a last name that was totally unknown to Akira and the third year had the stupid, fleeting thought that maybe it wasn’t the Takanori he knew. Maybe it was a different one and the blond he knew just happened to have the paper.  But when he skipped down to the next section and read ‘child’s name after adoption’: _Matsumoto Takanori_. And in that moment Akira knew for sure that there was no way that the document couldn’t be, by some miracle, talking about someone else. There was no two ways about it… Takanori was adopted and suddenly Akira understood almost everything.

 

The reason Takanori hated talking about his parents wasn’t entirely because they were always overseas, but because they weren’t even his real parents to begin with. He knew why the blond second year had reacted so strongly to seeing Akira’s own mother and sister. It was because Akira actually _had_ a family, he had a mother to care for him and welcome him home at the end of the day. Akira also knew why Takanori was so afraid of letting people in. The little blond was afraid of letting people in because his birth parents had left him, his adoptive parents had taught him how to clean and cook and then left him. Takanori had only ever known betrayal, he’d only ever known people leaving him which is how Akira now understood why he acted so coldly to everyone, why he wasn’t interested in making friends and being nice. Akira felt incredibly privileged all of a sudden. He’d been the one person Takanori had somewhat let his walls down for. He’d been the one Takanori had let in and shared things with. Akira was the one Takanori had chosen to take a chance with and that little fact made him so happy.

 

Akira was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the lock on the bathroom door turning and he quickly stuffed the papers back into the notebook, placed it back in it back in its draw before shoving the pants on top and pushing the draw shut. He stood up and leaned his backside against the chest of draws has Takanori exited the bathroom, looking far less uptight than he had when he’d went in there.

 

“What were you doing in there? You took ages,” Akira commented absently, trying not to somehow give away that he’d been snooping through the second year’s stuff and discovered his biggest secret. The elder blond didn’t even know how he was going to bring up the subject with Takanori; he knew he’d have to say something eventually, but when he didn’t know.

 

“Nothing,” Takanori answered quickly. “I just had to pee.”

 

“Took you an awful long time to piss,” Akira narrowed his eyes, getting suspicious. What _had_ Takanori been doing in there? Using it as an excuse to take his mind off the second year’s past Akira stalked forward and watched as the little blond shrunk back a little and practically refused to look at him. He smiled when he registered that Takanori still hadn’t put his shirt back on which awarded him a nice view of the blond’s taught abdomen; not as muscled as his own, but still not a bad sight at all. “Takanori…” Akira hummed in a sing-song kind of voice. “What were you doing in there?”

 

“Nothing,” Takanori snapped. “I already told you I wasn’t doing anything so shut up and leave it alone, will you?” Akira could see how uneasy Takanori was but he wasn’t going to give up, because he was a stubborn arsehole like that.

 

“Taka…” Akira reached forward and ran the tips of his fingers over Takanori’s abdomen, feeling the little blond flinch a little. “Your stomach is wet. Almost like… you had to wash it.”

 

Takanori’s face went bright red as he slapped Akira’s hand away as it tried to sneak forward yet again. “Shut up! I washed my hands after I went to the bathroom and wiped them, it’s not a big deal. Now will you stop fucking around? I still need to decide on a shirt.”

 

Akira chuckled, “I think you’re lying to me. You know what else I think?” Akira snuck up behind Takanori when he turned around to slip on his shirt and placed his broad hands on the little blond’s slim waist. “ _I_ think you got a boner and ran off to take care of it yourself instead of letting me do it.”

 

“Don’t be stupid,” Takanori mumbled. “And don’t be so cocky either; I’m not that easy to turn on”

 

Akira chuckled and dropped the subject, not wanting to push Takanori like he’d pushed him before. The blond third year knew better than that by now. But Akira found that he’d lost something to take his mind off everything his smile faded and he was left with the torturous thoughts of the fact that Takanori was adopted. He wanted to badly to talk to the younger boy about it but knew that if he did he’d probably have his head bitten off. Takanori would most probably kick him out or something and Akira certainly didn’t want that.

 

The elder blond was snapped out of his thoughts by Takanori voice and his hand waving in front of Akira’s face. “Huh?” Akira asked dumbly as he focused his attention back on the little blond.

 

“Stop spacing out, birdbrain. Seriously, is your attention span _that_ short?” Takanori regarded him suspiciously, disguising his obvious unrest with insults. Granted, it wasn’t really like Akira to totally wander off into his own little dream world like that so he didn’t blame Takanori for being suspicious.

 

Quickly plastering on a smile that hopefully hid anything he might have given away, he was terrible at hiding things, Akira bent down and pinched Takanori’s cheek, “Are you ready for your first date?”

 

Takanori harshly slapped his hand away and shot the elder blond a dangerous glare, “Are you masochistic or something?” Takanori asked, eyeing the taller blond sceptically. “Because you’re really asking for an arse-kicking today.” The smaller teen pouted his plump lips when all Akira did was laugh. With a swift punch to the arm Takanori mumbled something about hurrying up as he stomped out the door in a huff.

 

***

 

The pair of teens was lucky the weather had begun to fine up for the day, with only a few scattered clouds here and there. They’d strolled around for a while, looking at different shops and bought lunch. After a few hours Takanori began complaining that his feet hurt which Akira had only chuckled at while taking the second year’s hand and pulling him along, much to Takanori’s dismay. The shorter of the pair glanced around quickly and whispered frantically that if someone saw them all hell would break loose at school. Akira only rolled his eyes and marched forwards through the crowd, the second year trailing behind with his hair hanging over his face.

 

All day Akira had found it a little difficult to relax and for good reason. He’d begun to notice little details about the way Takanori acted around other people that he hadn’t before, mostly because he’d never actually been out in public with the little blond for too long but also because of his new-found information. Takanori was cold, colder than Akira had originally thought. When the shop assistants asked if there was anything they could do to help, Takanori would give them a short, sharp ‘no’ and would no longer acknowledge their presence. If they passed a family in the street, whether it be a mother with one or two kids, or two parents and their child, Takanori would tense up ever so slightly and look anywhere but at them. Akira noticed the little crease in the younger’s brow when someone would smile at him as they walked past, or brush just a little too close. Takanori _really_ didn’t like people and it was now even more obvious to Akira than it had been to begin with.

 

Hence the elder blond had made the decision to draw Takanori away from the crowded streets and to somewhere a little more peaceful. Akira gently squeezed Takanori’s hand in reassurance and led him away from the bustling crowds of Takeshita-dori towards a more secluded area of the city. As they entered the peaceful grounds of Konnō Hachiman-gū Shrine, Takanori glanced around before he tugged on Akira’s hand, making the elder blond stop and turn around. “Why’re we here?” He mumbled quietly.

 

Akira cleared his through a littler nervously and rubbed the back of his head with his free hand. How could he explain his sudden attentiveness? He knew he was usually pretty good at reading a situation but this was pushing it, even for him. “Um…” He thought quickly. “I like the peacefulness here.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. He’d been to this shrine a lot before but that wasn’t the reason he wanted to bring Takanori there.

 

The little blond narrowed his eyes, obviously not really believing Akira. Nevertheless, the third year ignored the disbelieving stare and led the younger over to a bench. As they sat down the pair took in their surroundings. It was indeed peaceful with only a few other people meandering about the grounds, mostly elderly people who’d come to view the shrine and pay their respects. Akira watched out of the corner of his eye as Takanori visibly relaxed, his shoulders slumping slightly and releasing a sigh. The third was glad he’d been able to somehow ease the younger’s discomfort, even if it was just a little bit. But Akira couldn’t help but think that their date had been a little boring, not really peaking Takanori’s interest and that made him feel a little disappointed.

 

Looking down, Akira noticed the Takanori’s small hand was still clasped in his own and with a slight smile he ran his thumb over the soft skin and pulled it up to his lips, placing a kiss there. The third year felt the younger tense a little when he looked over at Akira. “You know,” the tall blond began, ignoring Takanori’s puzzled stare. Really, the second year should be used to his affections by now. “My dad used to bring me here a lot… before he left.”

 

Takanori looked at his feet and for some reason Akira thought the younger was about to snap at him and say he didn’t want to hear one of his sob stories. He assumed that would’ve been the answer had they not been around each other for so long, but Akira was still glad when the small blond didn’t say anything, taking it as his cue to continue. “Before my sister was born we used to do lots of stuff. But for some reason I always liked coming here the most,” Akira reminisced, thumb still absentmindedly rubbing over Takanori’s hand. “He used to buy me takoyaki at this little stall not so far away and then we’d come here... You know, I don’t hate him.”

 

Takanori’s interest was piqued and he looked up at Akira curiously, his hazel eyes full of confusion, “What? You mean… you don’t hate your dad?” When Akira pursed his lips and shook his head confidently. The second year frowned. “Why not? You have every right to hate him. He left you… you and your mother and your sister. It’s such a cruel thing to do.”

 

“There’s no use in hating him,” Akira explained calmly. He guessed he was probably trying to subliminally tell Takanori that he shouldn’t be angry about either of his parents not being there, even though he knew Takanori’s situation was different from his. “He’s gone,” the blond shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do about that, I’m only wasting energy if I choose to hate him. Energy I could be spending on my family and other things,” the third year shot Takanori a meaningful look.

 

A thoughtful expression crossed Takanori face as he averted his eyes and Akira thought he was probably thinking about exactly what the third year _wanted_ him to think about. “Akira,” Takanori suddenly spoke up after a few minutes of silence. The third year ‘hmm’ed’ quietly, watching curiously as the little blond nibbled on his lip. “Let’s have your mum and sister over for dinner,” Takanori said, raising his head up to lock eyes confidently with Akira.

 

“W-what?” Akira stuttered. Out of all things to come out of his mouth those words had been that last thing Akira ever expected to hear. He shook his head and regathered his thoughts, turning to completely face the younger to look him directly in the eyes. “Are you sure, Taka? I mean last time didn’t exactly… go well.”

 

“I know,” Takanori mumbled, looking down only to have his face lifted again by Akira’s fingers. “But…I don’t know, I just- I want to get to know your family. I thought that maybe, seeing as I don’t have my own it’d be nice to at least have some kind of experience. I don’t know,” Takanori squeezed his eyes shut and pulled his head away again, obviously embarrassed. “Don’t worry about it, actually. It was a stupid idea. Forget it,” he mumbled.

 

“No, no,” Akira was quick to answer. “It’s a great idea! I was just a bit surprised, that’s all. But I’m sure mum would love that, Koyuki too. But are you sure? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or anything…”Akira trailed off, feeling like he was treading on dangerous grounds. Takanori wasn’t really one to openly speak about his own weaknesses much, but he felt as though he needed to make sure the second year would be ok. 

 

Takanori took a deep breath and nodded surely, “I’ll be fine. I can control myself better now and I’ll feel more comfortable with you there… even though you were there last time, but things have changed since then. It’ll be fine.”

 

Akira couldn’t help but smile. Takanori could be so sweet when he wanted to be. “I’ll help you cook,” Akira said, “And then we’ll sit down and have dinner like a family. Is that what you want?” Takanori nodded firmly, letting a small smile tug at the corner of his plump lips. “And I _promise_ ,” Akira gave Takanori’s hand a squeeze. “I’ll be there to hold your hand the whole time. Also…” Akira thought, an idea suddenly popping into his head. “Maybe… maybe we can tell her…about us? I mean, I know I never really asked you officially, but,” the elder blond bit his lip and stared into Takanori’s wide eyes, “Will you…be my boyfriend?”

 

Akira swore he almost heard Takanori lose his breath, the second year gasping softly. He knew he probably should’ve been expecting it. But it still came as a surprise because there’d always been that little twinge of doubt in his stomach that he’d wake up one morning and Akira would be gone. He realized he hadn’t answered yet and that the third year was starting to look a little nervous. So Takanori nodded slowly and leaned in to put his arms around Akira’s neck, burying his face in the elder blond’s neck. “Yes,” he mumbled and couldn’t hold back what could only be described as a giggle. “But are you sure you can handle me?”

 

Akira threaded his arms at the small of Takanori’s back, chuckling into his blond mop of hair. “Oh please,” he said. “If I couldn’t handle you I wouldn’t have stuck around so long.” He nudged the little blond back with his shoulder so that he could stare into his _boyfriend’s_ eyes. With a quick glance around to make sure what few people were there were paying them no attention to them, he leaned down to place a swift kiss against Takanori’s soft lips. Pulling back, he smiled, “Let’s go home? I’ll call mum and organize everything.”

 

Takanori gave a small nod and the pair of them stood up, still hand in hand and left the shrine. As they made their way home Akira had the thought that, now, maybe their date hadn’t been so boring after all because now Takanori was officially his boyfriend. The second year would probably give him his first legitimate relationship and Akira was more than excited to pamper the little blond to the world’s end.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.

The next Saturday morning Takanori was awoken by the feeling of butterfly kisses being spread across the surface of his face. With a groan, the second year rolled over and buried his face into the plush pillow. However there was barely a break in the contact as the lips merely moved to the back of his neck, moving further down towards his cheek. Hands slithered their way to his hips and slid underneath his shirt. The contact on his skin made goosebumps prickle all over Takanori’s body. Those hands slithered further upwards, dragging his shirt along with them until the material was bunched under his armpits.

 

This awakening was pretty similar to how it’d been all week for the small second year. Since their date on Sunday Akira had pretty much moved into his room and had made himself quite comfortable in Takanori’s bed. Not that the little blond was complaining, it was just that Akira liked to wake him up every morning. Regardless of how sweet the wakeup call was, Takanori just wasn’t a morning person…At all. But beyond the mornings, things had gone back to regular at school. Even though, in their eyes, Takanori was now officially Akira’s boyfriend they had still decided not tell anyone at school. The fact that Takanori wasn’t a people person still hadn’t changed one bit. Of course Aoi had managed to figure it out for himself, the clever bastard. But Takanori didn’t really mind him knowing because, really, who was Aoi actually going to tell? The reclusive raven didn’t speak to anyone but him and Kouyou.

 

This was probably the first week they’d actually gone to school every single day since Akira had moved in. But it was a nice change and, as well as school, Akira had managed to sort out dinner with Akira’s mother and sister. They were due to arrive at around half past five that afternoon. Which meant that, seeing as it was almost midday, Akira and Takanori would have to drag themselves out of bed fairly soon.

 

Takanori groaned when Akira insisted on removing his shirt. “No, Aki,” the little blond growled, slapping at Akira’s hands. This had been another thing that’d been going on all week. Takanori had a feeling that Akira was trying to coerce him into sex. And the very idea _terrified_ Takanori. Sure, he’d come close to it not so long ago but the thought still frightened him a bit. But, of course, he’d only been responding to Akira’s advances with joking rejection because he was just that shit at handling issues.

 

“Why not?” Akira whined against his neck. “Taka, don’t you know that I want you?” The elder blond scattered kisses over Takanori’s shoulder and then to his temple. “I think this is something we should talk about, you know. I know that the idea of sleeping with me makes you nervous, that much is obvious,” Akira began tentatively and Takanori felt his gut twisting a little bit. “But how long are you going to make me wait? I mean, realistically I’ll wait as long as you want me to, but a man has his needs.”

 

With a huff, Takanori yanked his shirt down and rolled onto his side so he could look at Akira who was lying beside him and studying him carefully. Averting his eyes, Takanori pursed his lips a little bit. “I know, Aki. I just…” The second year scrunched up his nose a little. He didn’t know how to explain himself really. What was stopping him from just saying yes, besides his own fear? Shuffling forwards a little bit, Takanori slipped his arms around Akira’s bare middle and hugged the elder blond close. “It’s not that I don’t want to…I’m just worried and I don’t even know why.”

 

Akira hummed, running his fingers through Takanori sleep mussed hair. These things he already knew. “Of course you’d be nervous,” Akira said, lightly kissing the top of Takanori’s head. “It’s your first time. But, you know that I’d never hurt you, yeah? I promise I’ll make sure that you’re comfortable. I don’t know what you expect me to be like, Taka. I’m not going to go in dry or prepare you wrong or anything. I want it to be just as pleasure for you as it will be for me. Think about that, ok?”

 

Takanori hesitated a little bit before he nodded, tucking his face into Akira’s neck. This was such an embarrassing topic for him. It probably didn’t need to be, but because he’d never had that kind of conversation before it was making him feel funny. “Ok…” He murmured, hugging Akira just a little bit tighter. “Ok, I…I trust you. We can…do it.”

 

Akira chuckled fondly and put his palms to Takanori’s cheeks, lifting his head to up to plant a kiss on the tip of his nose. “If you’re sure,” he grinned when Takanori nodded. “But not right now. We’ve gotta get up and start getting everything ready for when mum and Koyuki get here.” Akira pecked Takanori on the lips before pulling away from the warm embrace. Giving Takanori’s bum a little pat, Akira hopped up out of bed and stretched. “Come on, you. Get up.” Takanori grumbled but dragged himself up anyways.

 

The pair of teenagers spent the next few hours getting the house ready. There wasn’t a lot to clean, but they still spent time making sure that the living room, dining room and kitchen were totally clean. Around five in the afternoon Takanori, who was already showered and dressed nicely in jeans and a crimson button-up shirt, began dinner while Akira went to have his own shower. When he was done, the third year joined Takanori in the kitchen to help out where he could. Takanori generally gave him jobs that wouldn’t result in the house being burned down. When the knock on the door came at about five thirty, Takanori set dinner aside to simmer while the pair of teenagers welcomed their guests. Of course, there were formalities and such. Suzuki-san commented on how lovely Takanori’s home was and how wonderfully he’d been looking out for Akira. Koyuki was pleased to see Akira, of course, and the blond third year spent most of the night with the little girl on his hip. Takanori really enjoyed seeing Akira with his family and, though it gave him a little twinge in his gut to see the elder blond so happy with something he’d never had, the sight still gave Takanori a fuzzy feeling in his stomach.

 

Eventually they all sat down to dinner which Suzuki-san was quite impressed with. They chatted about school and how Akira was going with all of his assignments. When the topic of Takanori’s parents arose, which was inevitable, Akira held the little blond’s hand underneath the table as Takanori explained his situation and how his parents were always going away on business trips. After that, though, the conversation picked up again. When dinner was finished, Akira helped Takanori clear the table and, when they were in the kitchen alone, Akira pulled the little blond against his chest. “Is everything ok?” He asked, tucking a flyaway piece of hair behind Takanori’s ear.

 

The second year nodded, “Yeah, just fine. I’m certainly coping a lot better tonight than I did the first time I met your mother,” the little blond chuckled.

 

“Well…” Akira began carefully, studying Takanori’s face for any sign that he wasn’t ready. “Do you think you’re ready to tell her everything? There’s no need to be nervous though. I mean, she knows about my sexuality so it probably won’t surprise her much.”

 

Takanori averted his gaze a little bit, feeling a slight twinge of apprehension twisting in his gut. Taking a deep breath, he nodded a little hesitantly, “Yeah. I’m ready.” This was a huge deal for Takanori. He’d not even come out to his parents yet and here he was, about to tell his boyfriend’s mother before his own parents even knew about his sexuality. ‘ _Fuck them_ ,’ Takanori thought. Standing up on his tiptoes, Takanori gave Akira a little kiss before nudging him towards the door. “Come on, birdbrain. Let’s go.”

 

“Birdbrain?” Akira laughed, tugging Takanori towards the door to the lounge room where his mother and sister were currently residing. “I haven’t heard that nickname in a while.” Entering the Living room, Akira and Takanori strode towards the middle aged woman who looked up and smiled at the warmly. Takanori really did like Akira’s mother. She was someone he would have loved to have taken care of him as a child, and even now. Akira was a really lucky guy, despite his financial situation. Takanori learned long ago that happiness didn’t depend on how much money one had.

 

“Mum,” Akira said, successfully gaining the woman’s full attention now. With a glance at Takanori the elder blond looked back at his mother and grinned. “I’d like to tell you something.” Takanori resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Akira’s dramatics. He loved being a pain in the arse, didn’t he? But Akira’s mother seemed to be a little on edge with the suspense. Akira’s grin widened and he picked up Takanori’s hand, treading their fingers together before looking up at Suzuki-san. “Takanori and I… we’re dating.”

 

Takanori bit his lip anxiously, watching the way Akira’s mother’s eyes moved between him and the third year. Her rather blank facial expression wasn’t instilling him with very much confidence, if he were to be totally honest. She…didn’t really look to have reacted in any kind of way. Did that mean that Takanori wasn’t good enough? Did she not think that he would make a very good boyfriend for Akira? Oh god, what if she thought he was just some rich arsehole?! A few moments of tense silence passed by before there was a loud shout and a pair of arms were slung around his neck as a body collided with his.

 

“Oh boys!” Suzuki-san’s voice rang out into the living room. “I’m so happy for you!” She pulled back from hugging Takanori to wrap her arms around her own son. This time when Takanori looked at her he saw the most amazingly bright, huge grin on her face. Unwrapping one arm from Akira, she held it out to Takanori and beckoned him over. The slightly stunned blond shuffled over and she pulled him into a three way hug with her and Akira. “You boys are going to be happy forever, I can see it already. You’ll get married, adopt children and then get old together. Oh, I’m so happy!”

 

“Whoa, calm down mum,” Akira laughed, patting his mother on the back, hopefully in a bid to calm the overly excited woman down a bit. She really was so enthusiastic about this, wasn’t she? “Don’t freak Taka out with your crazy grandma talk. We’ve gotta finish high school yet.”

 

Takanori was silent throughout this whole exchange but then he felt a little tug on the bottom of his shirt. Looking down, he spotted Koyuki standing beside him, gazing up at him with her big curious eyes. Bending down, he came eye to eye with the little girl who blinked at him for a few moments before she stood up on her tiptoes and wrapped her little arms around his neck. “Are you going to be my new Nii-chan?” She asked.

 

Takanori’s heart did little flips. He wasn’t often very fond of children, but this kid was just way too damn cute for her own good. Gingerly, Takanori put on arm underneath her bum to support her and picked her up, sitting her on his hip. That’s when he noticed that Akira had come over as well. Takanori watched the elder blond ruffle his little sister’s hair a little. “He might be one day,” Akira told his sister who grinned widely and tucked her face in against Takanori’s neck.

 

The blond second year was absolutely elated. He was so happy he could’ve started crying. But that would have just been awkward, so he kept that inside as he, Akira and Suzuki-san moved back over to the couch to sit down and continue talking. It was probably around nine o’clock when Suzuki-san announced that she and Koyuki, who’d fallen asleep in Takanori’s lap with her head on his chest and her arms still hugging his neck, should get home. It was with a small amount of guilt that Takanori had to wake the little girl up and pass her over to her mother. Takanori said goodbye to both of them, thanked them for coming and headed upstairs to give Akira a moment to say goodbye to his mother.

 

Once back upstairs in his room, Takanori dropped down onto the bed with a heavy sigh. Well, that had been both exciting and terrifying at the same time. So someone now knew about him and Akira…well, accept Aoi. But he’d figured it out himself. Really, Takanori was glad that Akira’s mother was the first to know. She was such a lovely accepting woman with a warm heart and a kind soul. Takanori knew for sure that he’d be inviting her around for dinner more often, Koyuki too, of course. She was such a sweet little girl. It almost made Takanori wish he had a sibling. Well…he might’ve. But he wouldn’t know.

 

Sighing, the little blond got up off his bed and wandered over to his dresser where he pulled out his typical pyjamas; a short pair of cotton shorts and a baggy wool sweater. Just as he was shutting his drawer the door opened and Akira strode in with a huge grin on his face. Takanori merely shook his head and chuckled. “I’ll be back, I’m just gonna change.” Passing his bed, the blond entered his bathroom.

 

After changing, removing his makeup, washing his face, moisturizing and brushing out his hair, Takanori returned to his room to find that Akira had thrown away his clothes in favour of his own usual sweat pants and was lying in Takanori’s bed, hands behind his head and eyes closed. Smiling a little, Takanori padded across the room and switched off the overhead light, so the only light illuminating the room came from the soft glow of the lamp beside the younger blond’s bed. Just as he was about to crawl onto the bed, Akira opened his eyes and looked over. “Open the curtains, would you?” He instructed gently.

 

Takanori was a little confused, but did as he was told. After he’d moved the material aside, Akira switched the bedside lamp off and then the room was bathed in the silver glow of the moon. Turning around, Takanori looked over to see Akira was sitting up in bed with a soft smile on his lips. The little blond’s heart did a flip in his chest. For some reason he thought Akira looked really lovely, sitting there on his bed, skin illuminated my pale moonlight and the corners of his lips twitching upwards in a smile that, for once, wasn’t cocky nor arrogant. Sighing breathily, Takanori walked back across the room and slid onto his bed to sit in front of Akira. Somehow he knew. He didn’t know how he knew, but he just did…

 

Tonight was the night.

 

The blond second year’s eyes fluttered a little when Akira raised his hand and brushed his knuckles over the raised skin of Takanori’s cheekbone. The little blond leaned into the touch and closed his eyes all the way when Akira’s lips finally descended on his after a few drawn out moments of the elder admiring his features. Takanori could tell straight away that this kiss was different. The way Akira’s lips caressed his told him that this time there was going to be more, more than just tender kisses and a long night of cuddling under the sheets. This kiss was more of a promise. Through it, Takanori could feel that Akira was going to be gentle, but at the same time firm and Akira was also telling him that there was no need to be apprehensive. So when Akira’s arms twisted their way around the little blond’s lithe waist, Takanori didn’t hesitate to melt into Akira’s embrace.

 

At first their kiss was just the simple press of lips against lips. But then Akira’s hand came to rest on the nape of Takanori’s neck and the little blond could feel the press of a tongue against his bottom lip. Gingerly, he parted his plush lips just enough for Akira’s tongue to slide into his mouth. As the elder blond’s tongue slowly guided Takanori’s own slick muscle in a slippery dance, the younger lifted his stationary hands and placed them on Akira’s thighs for lack of a better idea. He just felt like he needed to put his hands somewhere.

 

Akira slowly broke from their kiss and brushed some of Takanori’s hair out of his face. It seemed that the elder blond couldn’t keep the smile off his face, because the corners of his lips twitched upwards in a content smile again. Takanori seemed to understand without Akira having to say anything because he scooted back on the bed and laid down, his head coming to rest amongst the plush pillows. The act of willingness only made Akira smile more. The little blond could feel his heart beating in his chest when Akira swung one leg over his hips and leaned down over him to kiss him again.

 

This was like a re-enactment of the night they’d had a little while ago, when Takanori had gotten angry at Akira for laughing at him. Except, now, he realized that Akira hadn’t actually been laughing _at_ him. Though he was sure Akira now knew that sex with Takanori would not be a small deal. Takanori was yanked from his thoughts when he felt fingers at the bottom of his woollen sweater and he couldn’t help but tense up a little bit at the foreign feeling. Akira, having obviously sensed this, kissed him even deeper, nibbling on his bottom lip and sensual sucking on his tongue.

 

As hands crept high and higher, Takanori felt goosebumps rising on his skin and he gasped softly when Akira’s hand finally reached high enough to brush against one of his nipples. The hands that had been placed on Akira’s shoulders tightened when the elder blond rubbed his thumb back and forth over the erect little bud. A tiny moan slipped out of Takanori’s mouth when Akira’s own made its way down over his jaw and to his neck where it quickly found the sensitive spot in the centre of Takanori’s collarbone. The combination of fingers stimulating his, apparently, quite sensitive nipples and the teeth, tongue and lips on one of his sensitive spots was making Takanori writhe just the tiniest bit and the heat beginning to pool in his abdomen was a sign to him that he was quickly becoming aroused.

 

When he felt a little tug on the hem of his sweater, Takanori opened his eyes to look up at Akira who had the end of his shirt in his hands. Getting the message, Takanori sat up a little and let Akira lift the item of clothing up over his head. Lying back down, Takanori gasped when Akira’s head travelled south straight away and the feeling of a wet tongue touching his nipple made the little blond’s back arch up slightly. A soft sigh passed his lips as he brought his hands up to tangle in Akira’s hair. Having someone paying attention his chest like that was an odd sensation but it was definitely pleasurable, especially when Akira closed his lips around the little bud and sucked.

 

As Akira switched over to the other neglected nipple, his hand travelled further down to the top of Takanori’s pyjama shorts. This was around where they’d gotten to last time. But this time around, Akira lifted his head and stared directly up at Takanori whose eyes were half lidded and had the same expression of lust as last time. “Is this ok?” Akira asked cautiously bringing his hand to rest atop the arousal entrapped in Takanori’s thin cotton shorts.

 

Takanori bit into his bottom lip and moaned softly at the feeling of another person’s hand on his crotch. It was extremely different from his own hand. He couldn’t quite describe it, it was just different. His hips twitched the tiniest bit when Akira started slowly rubbing him through his shorts. “Mhm,” he gave a short nod, not trusting his voice at the moment.

 

Smiling, Takanori watched Akira climb off him and knelt beside him. The elder kept his eyes on Takanori as he slid his fingers under the elastic of his shorts and slowly lowered them. Takanori could see that he was watching the smaller’s eyes, ready to stop if there was any sign that Takanori was feeling uncomfortable and Takanori appreciated that more than anything.  But he wasn’t feeling uncomfortable. In fact, he trusted Akira one hundred per cent and he lifted his hips a little bit to help the elder blond slide his pants down. He did become a little shy however when his shorts reached low enough that his erection sprung free from the material and bounced up to lightly slap against his abdomen.

 

Once his shorts were totally gone, Takanori watched Akira looking over his body. His heart thumped when the elder blond placed his hand against Takanori’s hairless thigh and ran his palm over the smooth surface. Slowly, Akira’s hand got higher and higher until his fingertips brushed the crease between Takanori’s groin and his thigh. It was completely embarrassing, but Takanori was pretty sure he felt his cock jump slightly at the fact that Akira was so close to touching him and yet wasn’t quite there. 

 

Soon enough though, Takanori’s eyes fluttered shut when Akira’s fingers slid under his erection and closed around it. At first Akira didn’t move at all and Takanori actually felt himself becoming a little impatient. But then Akira slowly stroked him and Takanori moaned softly. The sensation of someone doing this to him was far better than doing it by himself. Takanori wasn’t sure if it was just because it was Akira and that’s what made it special or if it would feel that way all the time. But either way, it felt incredible and when the movements of Akira’s hand sped up and his thumb passed over the head Takanori’s hips twitched upwards.

 

The smirk that was on Akira’s face told everything. He was thoroughly enjoying himself and, to be completely honest, Takanori was as well. Even though this was only the beginning of a handjob Takanori was already feeling quite on edge and he sat up, gripping the back of Akira’s neck and pulling him into a kiss. This kiss was hotter and a little more rushed than the ones before. After getting over the initial nervousness of being naked in front of another person for the first time since he was about four years old, Takanori found that he was rather enjoying everything.

 

Lips and tongues rubbed together sensually and Takanori became a little more adventurous by trailing his hand down the bumps of Akira’s defined abdomen to the top of his still intact pants. The elder blond groaned into his mouth when Takanori slipped his hand past the elastic and brushed his own experimental fingertips over Akira’s erection. Pressing his hips a little closer to Akira’s fist, Takanori closed his hand around Akira’s arousal and pumped it slowly. Akira broke the kiss to lean down and kiss Takanori’s neck, occasionally grazing his teeth along the skin. Eventually though, Takanori got sick of being the only one who was naked and withdrew his hand from Akira’s pants to pull on the elastic the same way Akira had done to him.

 

With a chuckle, Akira drew his hand back from Takanori’s erection, much to the little blond’s displeasure, in favour of sliding his sweat pants down over his legs. Once the material was out of the way Takanori had a full view of Akira’s body and he was absolutely not disappointed. His eyes were specifically drawn to the hardness between Akira’s legs and he felt butterflies spread through his stomach. Actually, Takanori felt kind of proud. He’d never made anyone that turned on before, it was quite the achievement in his books. But aside from that, he had butterflies because Akira was _big_. Bigger than average and he was quite thick too. Takanori may not have ever seen a dick in real life but he knew what a normal size was and Akira was definitely not normal sized. For a moment he wondered how that thing was going to fit inside him but before he could really dwell on the thought any longer, Akira was pressing on his chest, making him lie back down on the bed. Carefully, the elder blond ran his hands up the inside of Takanori’s legs and, once he got to the younger’s knees, he pushed them up and out.

 

Takanori’s heart all but bashed against his ribcage as he let Akira raise his legs and he slowly spread them for the elder. Akira seemed to be sitting back admiring his view for a little bit and the way he was scrutinizing Takanori’s body made the little blond feel a little nervous. Slowly, a smile crawled its way across Akira’s face and he kneeled down between Takanori’s legs to bend down and kiss him deeply. Pulling back, Akira rested his forehead against the little blond’s. “You’re really beautiful, you know that?” He said, pecking Takanori on the lips once more.

 

“You’ve already got me in bed,” Takanori breathed. “You don’t have to spout anymore sweet words at me.” He was joking, of course. But even in this kind of situation Takanori was going to tease Akira. The elder blond laughed and shook his head, making Takanori grin as well. This break in the seriousness of the moment was welcomed by both blond’s. But Akira’s smile soon died down to just a small curl of the lips. He kissed Takanori’s nose before sitting up again and reaching over to the bedside table. Takanori watched curiously as the elder blond opened the draw and reached in, pulling out what looked like a bottle of lubricant. “When the hell did that get in there?” Takanori stared up at Akira incredulously.

 

The elder blond smiled a little guiltily and rubbed the back of neck when Takanori narrowed his eyes. “Ah…I kind of put it there a little while ago,” Akira explained. “Just for whenever you were ready. I didn’t want to have to get up and run off to my room to get it. That would just ruin the moment.”

 

Takanori stared up at Akira’s sheepish grin with a raised eyebrow for a few moments before he broke out into a laugh. “You’re ridiculous,” he commented before sitting up and catching Akira off guard by pulling him into another kiss. Reaching over, Takanori opened the cap of the lube that was in Akira’s hand as a kind of silent ok.

 

Lying back down, Takanori watched Akira, who now had the go ahead, tip the bottle up and squeeze a decent amount of the slick substance onto his finger. Putting the bottle aside, Akira looked down at Takanori who nodded. Reaching out with the hand that didn’t have lube on it, Akira picked up Takanori’s hand and threaded their fingers together. Takanori felt Akira give his hand a little squeeze before there was a cold sensation against his entrance and his made him jump a little bit. Akira shushed him gently, leaning down to kiss him as he continued to spread the lube around. Takanori felt that Akira was doing his best to distract him with kisses but he still flinched a little bit when he felt a finger pressing at him. He did his best to relax as Akira pushed the digit forwards. The feeling of having a finger inside him was…strange. There was no other way to describe it, really. It was a little uncomfortable at first, but once he got used to it, it was ok. But at first it just felt strange.

 

Once Akira’s finger was in to the knuckle, Takanori felt it withdraw only to push back in. He kept his breathing steady and tried to become accustomed to the feeling. Meanwhile, Akira kissed his lips, cheeks, jaw, down his neck, over his chest, down over his stomach. Takanori opened his eyes and looked down to see Akira kneeling between his legs. Regretfully, the elder blond pulled his hand away from Takanori’s to bring it down between his legs. Takanori felt Akira’s second finger at his entrance at the same time as the elder’s tongue on the head of his cock. Gasping as he was hit with two different and new sensations at the same time, Takanori brought his hand up and clenched the pillow underneath his head in a tight fist. The further Akira’s second finger pushed in, the lower his mouth went of Takanori’s arousal and the tighter Takanori squeezed the pillow.

 

“Aki…” He breathed, looking down to see the elder blond looking up at him, looking like he was asking with his eyes, ‘is this ok?’ Shakily, Takanori nodded his head and then tipped it back when he felt Akira’s fingers moving inside him and the slide of lips and tongue along his throbbing arousal. Takanori’s mouth staggered open in a long, broken moan when Akira sped his motions up just a little bit more and now he could feel the elder blond’s fingers spreading apart a little in a bid to stretch him as much as possible. There was a little bit of a sting, but nothing that couldn’t be overpowered by the feeling of Akira’s tongue sliding up his cock, the way it wriggled against the head and dipped into the slit. The whole thing had Takanori’s toes curling against the mattress.

 

Soon enough, there was a third and final finger pressing at him and, as it slid in; Akira doubled his efforts in sucking Takanori off. It was at one point, when he felt he was finally starting to loosen up a bit, that Akira pulled his fingers out and then pressed them back in, pushing just a little further than before and Takanori gasped loudly, pale body arching off the bed in a graceful bow. “ _Ah!_ ” He cried, panting softly. He assumed that was been his prostate. The little blond had read about it and heard that it was like the male equivalent of a g-spot, but he’d never experienced it for himself. When he glanced down again, he saw that Akira was looking rather proud of himself.

 

Takanori slowly felt Akira’s fingers easing out of him and then the elder blond was sitting up, shuffling a little closer between his spread legs and Takanori knew that it was time. His heart thumped in his chest as he watched Akira squeezing some lube into his palm before coating his own pulsing cock in the sticky liquid. The little blond’s heart sped up yet again when he felt the head of Akira’s erection pressing against his entrance. Akira leaned down over him and pressed a tender kiss to his lips before moving down to his neck, peppering his skin with the lovely, soft contact and Takanori gasped softly, bringing his arms up to wrap around Akira’s neck when he felt the taller blond begin to enter him. His mouth hung open and he squeezed his eyes shut at the sensation of something bigger than a few fingers inside him.

 

Once he was buried to the hilt, Takanori felt Akira pause for a moment, just resting his forehead against Takanori’s damp shoulder. “Taka…are you ok?” He asked, pulling back to stroke the young blond’s hair away from his sweaty face.

 

Takanori opened his eyes, still trying to calm his breathing. “Yeah,” he nodded, feeling breathless. “I’m good. You can move now.” And Akira did and it felt…amazing. The feeling of flesh sliding alongside his, the feeling of being filled, of being so intimately connected with someone. It was all so amazing and as Akira began to thrust, Takanori felt himself relaxing more and just enjoying the feeling. His moans came in abundance, every time Akira pressed into him he would open his mouth and let out some kind of pleasurable sound whether it be a moan, a groan, a gasp or even a whimper. He clung to Akira’s neck tightly and eventually, when he felt a little more confident he began to push his hips upwards, urging Akira on.

 

Since it was his first time ever having sex, Takanori knew that he wasn’t going to last a very long time. Especially not when Akira’s cock finally made contact with his prostate and the sudden spike of pleasure had him arching up against Akira’s body, crying out the blond’s name loudly. Turning his head, he pressed his nose into Akira’s hair and lifted his hand to thread his fingers into the soft, damp locks. Akira’s grunts and groans sounding so close to his ear were informing Takanori that his boyfriend was indeed enjoying himself as well. One of Akira’s hands slid down and grasped Takanori’s thigh, pushing it up just a little more and the slight change in positioning gave the elder blond the perfect angle to hit Takanori’s prostate dead on.

 

“Oh! A-Akira…” Takanori panted, squeezing his eyes shut. “I…Oh…P-Please. T-Touch me… _ah_!” He may have sounded nonsensical but the elder blond obviously understood before he was pulling back just a little bit so he could squeeze his hand down between their bodies to grasp Takanori’s neglected cock. Akira’s thrusts didn’t slow down. In fact, to Takanori it felt like they sped up which just made him cry out even louder, especially when Akira’s fist moved up and down his erection at a fast pace, precome leaking out and dribbling onto his abdomen.

 

“Takanori,” Akira grunted out his full name. “Taka…look at me. Open your eyes and look at me. I want to see your eyes when you come.”

 

Takanori whimpered, the sweet and yet arousing words pushing him even closer to the edge. With a great amount of effort, Takanori managed to pry his eyes open to stare up at Akira whose lips twitched a little bit at the edges. The little blond kept his eyes on Akira’s, not letting them move and inch. But it was hard to keep his eyes open and he had to force them to stay even halfway open, especially when he finally felt his orgasm crashing down over him. His lithe body arched up off the bed and he gripped Akira tightly, digging his manicured nails into the damp skin of Akira’s back. Mouth staggering open in a sharp cry, Takanori spilled over his abdomen. With his muscles clamping down around Akira’s still moving cock, it was obviously enough to push Akira over the edge as well because Takanori felt his thrusts falter and then there was a certain warmth spreading inside him.

 

Dropping back down onto the bed, Takanori finally let his eyes slide shut as he caught his breath. The little blond winced a little bit when Akira pulled out and he felt the elder’s come trickle out of him a little. It was an odd feeling, but he was too damn tried to care. Dabbing on his stomach made him open his eyes and he saw that Akira was sitting beside him, dabbing a tissue against his abdomen to clean up with come. They were both silent, neither wanting to ruin the perfect silence. Once Akira had disposed of the dirty tissue, he crawled back onto the bed and laid down next to Takanori, instantly pulling the little blond into his tight hold. Shifting around, Takanori tucked himself securely against Akira’s naked body and sighed.

 

“That was amazing, Taka,” Akira was the first to speak. “It was seriously the best sex I’ve ever had.”

 

Takanori smiled lazily, tucking his face into the crook of Akira’s neck. “It was the best first time I could ever ask for,” Takanori whispered lazily, feeling his body beginning to conk out on him. Wow, he’d had no idea sex would be so tiring.

 

Akira chuckled and ran his fingers through Takanori’s damp hair, further lulling the little blond off to sleep. No more word were said between them because both of them were far too tired to hold any kind of conversation. Eventually, Takanori nodded off to sleep, happily curled around Akira, their legs tangled together under the sheets. Akira was the second to fall asleep, though not before he kissed Takanori’s cheek and petted his hair back from his face. Both teenagers had never felt so content in their whole life.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.

“My arse _still_ hurts,” Takanori grumbled as he and Akira neared the school gates. The little blond’s stomach grumbled hungrily as well; he could tell he was going to be in a crappy mood all day. Neither of them had time that morning to make a proper breakfast. Well...Akira _physically couldn’t_ seeing as his cooking skills were completely useless, but Takanori didn’t have time to make them anything. They’d both slept in a little longer than planned and after a rushed shower each and a little fight over the hair straightener, they’d ventured downstairs with just enough time to eat a quick bowl of cereal before they were out the door.

 

“Sorry,” Akira apologized lightly, though it was obvious that there was no remorse in his voice. He wasn’t really sorry, but he would say it just to make Takanori happy. “You know you liked it though. It was totally worth it,” the elder blond ginned, nudging Takanori’s side.

 

 The shorter of the pair deadpanned and looked up, shooting Akira a hard glare. “Don’t think I won’t kick you in the balls in public, birdbrain.” He nudged Akira back, fighting to keep the smirk off his face. “Because you know I will.” And he was right; of course Akira knew he would do it. If there was one thing he’d learned in their few months together it was to not push Takanori’s buttons; he _did_ follow through with his threats.

 

As they neared the spot where they usually split up Akira stopped, ready to kiss Takanori goodbye for the day even though they’d be in the same vicinity. But, to his surprise, Takanori just shook his head and moved his head away from Akira’s kiss. Frowning, the elder blond shot his boyfriend a questioning look. Takanori didn’t say anything, just took Akira’s hand and threaded their fingers together. “You coming?” He asked, tugging on Akira’s hand a bit.

 

“Taka...”

 

Takanori rolled his eyes and tugged again. “Come on, dummy,” he urged. “I wanna walk into school together with my boyfriend. But I don’t wanna be late. That’s just asking for detention.” Offering a small smile to Akira, who was looking rather astonished, Takanori pulled on the elder blond’s hand once more, encouraging him to keep walking.

 

This time, Akira responded and shuffled his feet, falling into step beside Takanori. “Taka, are you sure?” He asked. The elder couldn’t help but feel a little apprehensive as much as he was overjoyed. Takanori had always been so adamant on remaining invisible to the entire school population. But walking in with someone like Akira would be like standing up on a pedestal and yelling at the top of his lungs. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

 

“I know that,” Takanori stated rather confidently, looking dead ahead at the looming school gates. They weren’t exactly close enough for people to start noticing yet though. “Don’t worry about me, Aki. I feel kinda bad pushing our relationship under the rug and keeping it from everyone. I don’t want you to feel like I’m ashamed of you or something.”

 

Akira gave Takanori’s hand a little squeeze. Of course since they had started dating, even unofficially, he’d wanted to walk into school with the little blond. He wanted to show Takanori off and let people see exactly what they couldn’t have. He wanted everyone to know that the school’s most beautiful little creature was his and no one else’s. But he also wanted to respect Takanori’s decision to remain anonymous. The second year’s desire to remain unbothered by everyone else was something that Akira could understand well enough. Sometimes it would just be nice to sink into the crowd and have no one really pay him much mind at all, so he didn’t want to push Takanori. But the fact that the little blond was willingly walking into school with him made Akira’s heart beat just that little bit faster. It also made him like Takanori just that little bit more, if that was even possible.

 

As the pair passed through the school’s front gates Takanori could feel himself becoming a little more self-conscious. People were staring. _Big time_. It felt like every single pair of eyes was on them, kind of like time had stopped and everyone was just glued in the one spot, watching them. Pressing himself closer to Akira’s side, Takanori panicked slightly when Akira actually let go of his hand! But then there was a pressure over his shoulders and Takanori realised that the elder blond had slung his arm over the shorter’s shoulders.

 

No one dared to say anything. Probably because they knew Akira would have no problem delivering a mean right hook if they even opened their mouth. It made Takanori feel kind of privileged, actually. But then, it also made him want to smack Akira over the back of the head. He was able to fight his own battles; though having someone else stick up for him was nice too. It made him feel torn, even though the topic was rather trivial.

 

Instead of venturing off on his own to have a smoke before class, Takanori walked alongside Akira to where the elder blond’s friends were sitting where they usually were, looking just as gobsmacked as every other person in the courtyard. There were even a few teachers that stopped to ogle at the pair.

 

“Aki,” Kouyou jumped down off the bench he’d been on and walked up to them. Takanori instantly felt the urge to recoil. Kouyou was someone he’d always found rather irritating and he knew the freakishly tall (at least to him) blond had given Aoi a bit of trouble. But he stayed put, wanting to stick by Akira. “What’s going on, man?” The honey blond asked, glancing from Akira to Takanori and back.

 

Akira chuckled and pulled Takanori just a little tighter against his side. “Kou, meet my boyfriend,” Akira announced proudly. He knew Kouyou and Takanori knew each other, but this was a more official meeting for them. Akira could hear the surprised murmuring coming from the rest of his friends and Kouyou blinked at him a few times. “I know it’s pretty unexpected. But we’ve actually been seeing each other for a couple of months already.” It felt good to just get it all off his chest. Well, not all of it. Of course he would never ever tell anyone about Takanori’s own personal struggles and how he’d come to stay with the little blond; that was personal information reserved for only them. But he could tell people him and Takanori had been seeing each other for a while already.

 

Kouyou still seemed rather surprised and Takanori was a little worried that the honey blond was going to say something rude to him. Which would suck. He was trying to be nice and give the regular population a chance, maybe try being tolerant for once. But if Kouyou just turned around and said something nasty Takanori’s theories of the regular populous would be proven correct and he found that he didn’t really want that to be the case.

 

It took a few moments for the information to sink in, obviously. But eventually, Kouyou beamed at the little blond and now he was the one who was surprised. “That’s awesome, man!” The honey blond exclaimed. “Taka, right?” Takanori blinked at him a few times and nodded. “Cool. Come sit.”

 

The short blond watched Kouyou retreat back to the bench and sit down, beckoning them over with a wave of his hand. Looking away Takanori gazed up at Akira, feeling rather astonished. Akira grinned and laughed at his boyfriend’s reaction and ruffled his hair a bit. “See? We’re not so bad, are we?” After receiving a shake of his head from Takanori, Akira lead the shorter blond over to his group of friends. Sitting down, he pulled Takanori onto his lap, always keeping an arm around the younger’s waist.

 

Akira introduced the rest of his friends to Takanori and, to the blond second year’s surprise, they were all quite nice and welcoming. He had imagined that if he were to ever make real human contact at this school people would still alienate him because he’d been such a recluse for the entire time he was there. But it would seem that, just like Akira, his friends were also not quite as they would seem to be and that was a pleasant surprise for Takanori.

 

Throughout the rest of the day, Takanori was actually able to stick to Akira’s side and not have to worry about anyone at all judging him. Not that he was overly concerned about what people thought of him, he just didn’t want people to pass judgement on Akira because of their relationship. And for the first time ever it would appear that Takanori- and Akira- were the talk of the school. But it wasn’t overly uncommon for Akira to be spoken about. He was still _Akira_ , after all. But for Takanori it was an entirely new experience, being talked about by everyone. Truth be told, it did make him feel a little uncomfortable, but he had Akira there so it didn’t really get to him.

 

The next few days passed like this. For the first time in months Takanori and Akira actually attended a full week of school and it was obvious that Akira’s friends, Aoi, and their teachers were quite surprised. Akira told Takanori about his history teacher cracking some kind of good natured joke about their relationship that had made Akira go bright red. Takanori would have paid to see that!

 

But to them, it would have appeared that things were just...normal. They were actually, for the first time since they’d gotten involved with one another, living a normal life. It was odd for Takanori because his life had always been anything but normal. Akira, though, he added that little element of normalcy that he needed and he appreciated that greatly.

 

As with all things around the blond second year, the peace wasn’t meant to last long. It was a weekend a few weeks after his and Akira’s first bedroom escapade – there had been more since then – and he was up in his studio working on a new arrangement. Takanori still hadn’t let Akira into that room. They lived in the same house and they shared almost everything, but Takanori needed a space for himself. Regardless of whether he had a boyfriend or not he was still a somewhat private person. He needed somewhere to just escape to and do his own thing; his home studio was the perfect place for that.

 

He’d been working on the guitar part of the song when a loud knock came at his door and Akira’s voice drifted through the wood. “Taka, there’s someone at the front door for you,” the blond announced. Takanori sighed, turning off his amplifier and sitting one of his many guitars back down on its stand. He made sure all of his progress had been saved before he logged off his computer and got up.

 

“Did you ask who they were?” The little blond inquired, stepping out of his studio and shutting the door behind him. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Akira had figured out what was in there so he didn’t bother hiding it anymore. But just because Akira knew what was in there didn’t mean he was actually allowed in. He knew he’d probably lose his left nut if he even bothered trying to step foot through the door.

 

“No,” Akira shook his head. “He didn’t want to say. He just insisted that he talk to you.” Akira followed after Takanori as the blond second year walked down the hallway and plodded his little feet down the stairs. Once he was walking towards the front door he spotted a man standing just inside it, staring around himself. It was obvious to Takanori that, like most people, this man had never really been in a big house like his before.

 

“Hi,” Takanori said warily, approaching the man. Now that he was up close he could see that the guy was relatively good looking with wavy chestnut hair and a kind looking face. He was dressed simply in bell bottom jeans and a black V neck shirt. And there was a little smear of flour on his cheek, Takanori guessed that he might have been working in a kitchen or something. “Can I help you?”

 

The man’s head snapped to the side when Takanori addressed him and his eyes lit up as he observed the short blond for longer than what was probably considered normal. He really looked like the kind of person who was quite clumsy and maybe a bit socially awkward. Maybe...he just didn’t really know how to act right? Takanori still frowned slightly though and he could feel Akira shifting behind him, obviously feeling a little standoffish with this guy and Takanori didn’t really blame him, to be honest.

 

“Hi, Takanori,” the man said, his voice cheerful and friendly sounding. He scratched the back of his head sheepishly, like he didn’t really know what to say at all. “I’m Uke Yutaka. Um...I’m not very good at this kind of stuff. Do you think we could sit down or something? It might seem crazy but you and I need to chat.”

 

Takanori eyed the man cautiously. Who the hell was this guy? “Uh...sure,” he murmured, glancing at Akira over his shoulder, who was clearly not very happy with the whole situation. “This way.” Takanori could feel Akira hot on his heels as they walked their guest into the kitchen. “Take a seat,” the blond second year gestured to one of the seats at the island and got to work on boiling a pot of tea. A few minutes later the three of them were sitting at the island; Yutaka on one side and Takanori and Akira on the other.

 

“So...” Takanori said, glancing at Akira who was still glaring at Yutaka like the chestnut haired man was about to leap over the table and try to fuck Takanori right there. He was being such a territorial male and it made Takanori roll his eyes. Yutaka seemed to be rather oblivious to it though because he just kept his eyes focussed on Takanori...which annoyed Akira even more. “How...do you know me?”

 

Yutaka took a sip from his tea and pressed his lips together, one cheek showing off a dimple even though his cheerfulness had mellowed out a bit. “Well, I’m here for a specific reason. I’ll warn you now that it’s going to seem really hard for you to believe but you have to trust me, ok?” Yutaka’s voice had gone from that chirpy tone to one that was definitely a lot more serious. Takanori blinked at him a few times and just nodded. “Ok...well, for starters I know that you’re adopted.”

 

Takanori’s eyes flew open and panic set in, running through his veins like ice. Akira...Akira was right next to him and as far as the little blond knew Akira had no idea about that secret! He kept still though, wanting to listen to what this guy had to say.

 

“And...well,” Yutaka scratched the back of his head again, fidgeting before looking up and directly into Takanori’s widened eyes. “I’m your brother.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.

“You’re not talking to me again.” Aoi’s quiet voice run out in the silent room, making it seem much louder than it really was. He stood in the doorway of Kouyou’s room, watching as  the honey blond teen sat on his bed with his back hunched and shoulders slumped. It was that time again, when Kouyou would avoid Aoi like the plague. It was that time that made Aoi feel so insecure. He hated it when Kouyou became so cold like that. He’d not long ago gotten out of the hospital after his monthly check-up and he was too tired to deal with Kouyou’s brooding now.

 

“Please, Kou,” the raven haired teen sighed, walked further into the blond’s room and sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I’m so tired of doing this. I don’t know why you avoid me like this but I’m growing tired of it. I thought you trusted me, Kou? You said you could tell me anything. So why not tell me this? Please?” Aoi sighed when Kouyou didn’t say anything. Cautiously, the raven slid across the bed, placing his hand on Kouyou’s shoulder before leaning his cheek against the honey blond’s upper back.

 

“When you act this way it makes me sad,” Aoi told him, tracing small patterns on Kouyou’s back with delicate fingers. “It makes me scared. Because I don’t know the cause I think that maybe I’ve done something wrong. It makes me feel like maybe you won’t want to be around me anymore and that you’ll want nothing to do with me. It makes me feel like I’m going to come here one day or go to school and you won’t be there anymore. And if that happened…God, I don’t even know, Kouyou.”

 

Finally, a sound left the honey blond’s lips. A sigh. Kouyou’s hand slid over his shoulder and grasped Aoi’s, tugging on it and bringing the raven’s arm over his shoulder. Aoi shifted, curling his arm around Kouyou’s shoulder and pressing his back against the honey blond’s. Aoi places a soft kiss against Kouyou’s temple, hoping that it would help to comfort the blond at least a little.

 

“It’s me who’s scared, Aoi,” he finally said in a calm quiet tone, his voice so unlike the one he used at school. “I get scared. Whenever…whenever I get like this it’s because you’re in the hospital for your check-ups.”

 

Aoi hummed. Now that he thought about it, it did always seem to be around that time that Kouyou started to act funny. With how perceptive he normally was he didn’t understand why he hadn’t picked up on it. Maybe because when he came out of the hospital he was always too tired and doped up to really notice those kinda of fine details.

Kouyou sighed again, thumb rubbing over the back of Aoi’s hand where it rested on his chest. “You remember the day we met.” It wasn’t a question. Of course Aoi would remember the day they met. “The way I was screaming and crying and trying to get into that room…it was because my sister was in there. She was two years younger than me.” Kouyou took a deep breath, Aoi tightening his hold and kissing his temple once more, before he continued. “We’d just been playing at home like normal and kicking a soccer ball around. I was being stupid and I kicked it to her a little harder, trying to throw her off. The ball rolled onto the road and Akari…she chased it. She was hit by a car.”

 

Aoi swallowed thickly. “And you place yourself,” he finished for the honey blond. Kouyou merely nodded, trembling slightly under Aoi’s hand. “You mustn’t blame yourself, Kouyou.” The raven rubbed his chest comfortingly, burying his face into that honey blond hair which smelled of cinnamon, coffee and cigarettes. “No one blames you.”

 

“That’s not why I get scared,” he stated, obviously not done with his story telling. Aoi quietened down, listening intently. “Since then…I’ve had a kind of fear of hospitals and what they mean. They don’t mean anything but death to me because that’s where my baby sister died.” Even before Kouyou finished what he was saying Aoi already knew where this was going. “And when you go in there…all I can see is them poking and prodding you on a table and I always worry that maybe, one day, you won’t come back.” Kouyou took another shaky breath and finally twisted his body enough to face Aoi and the raven was surprised to find tears glistening in those amber eyes. “And that would kill me. If that ever happened I would…I don’t even know.”

 

Aoi practically jumped Kouyou, flinging his arms around the honey blond’s neck and hugging him tightly. “I’m not going anywhere, Kou,” he did his best to assure the blond. “I promise you. I would never leave you behind, no matter what condition my shitty heart is in. It’s not going to happen.”

 

Kouyou sighed, pressing his face against Aoi’s neck and inhaling deeply as the raven stroked his fingers through Kouyou’s soft honey blond hair. “How about…next time you come with me?” Aoi asked cautiously. “That way you can see for yourself. They don’t put me under anaesthetic, they don’t cut me open. All they do is put a few heart rate monitors on me, take a few x rays and take some blood. It’s just to monitor my condition.”

 

Kouyou sniffled quietly and stayed silent for a good few minutes. It was obvious that he was thinking about whether he really wanted to do that or not. “…Ok,” he answered after a while, pulling back to look at Aoi’s face and the raven reached up to gently swipe away the lone tear that strayed down Kouyou’s face. “Next time I’ll stay with you the whole time.”

 

“I’m glad.” Aoi offered a little smile before pulling Kouyou back in against him.

 

***

“M-my…brother?” Takanori breathed, already being able to feel his chest seizing up. Cautiously, he glanced over at Akira who looked just as shocked at him. The little blond was waiting for the moment when Akira would turn around and start questioning him about his adoption. Hadn’t this guy, Yutaka, thought about the fact that maybe Akira didn’t know yet? Takanori was definitely right about him not having any kind of social skills. Already he wasn’t particularly liking his apparent brother. “Are you sure?” Takanori wondered, tearing his eyes off of Akira to refocus back on his apparent brother.

 

Yutaka nodded, pulling a few papers out of his shoulder bag before laying them on the table for Takanori to see. “I’m sure.” Takanori hesitated  moment before he reached over and took the papers off the table. His eyes scanned the words on the white pages, only skimming until he got to the important bits. Once there, he read a little more carefully. _Mizushima Yutaka_. That name; Mizushima. It was what his name had been before he was adopted, the same name that was on his very own adoption papers. Takanori would have really liked to believe that this guy was crazy and he hadn’t really had a brother all this time. But he’d have to be a pretty desperate crazy person to have done so much background research, gone to the Tokyo department of health or forged office government documents just to prove that he was some random teenager’s brother.

 

Takanori would _like_ to believe that was true…but it so wasn’t because that would be absolutely absurd. He placed the papers down on the counter top again so Yutaka and Akira wouldn’t see the trembling of his hands. Even after all of these months Takanori still didn’t like letting Akira see his weakness. And there was no way he was going to show any kind of weakness to Yutaka. He didn’t even know the dude! Brother or not.

 

“Ok,” Takanori said, deceptively calm as he looked over at the hopeful looking brunet. He was keeping his cool, but only barely and he assumed that Akira knew that because he could feel the elder blond’s hand on his knee, stroking gently in a way that offered reassurance. “So what?” Takanori asked, keeping his guarded appearance. “You’re my brother, big deal. I have no idea who you are. I didn’t even know you existed until fifteen minutes ago. I don’t know you as a person. So what were you expecting to get out of this?”

 

The disappointment on Yutaka’s face was palpable. Takanori knew he was being blunt but when it came to these kinda of situations he didn’t really know how else to be. He was only telling the truth. He _didn’t_ know Yutaka, that was that. For some reason Takanori thought Yutaka had had the idea that he would show up on the little blond’s doorstep and he’d smile and laugh and fall into the brunet’s arms exclaiming how he’d always wanted a brother. But that…was _so_ not the kind of person that Takanori was. And that only proved his point more. Yutaka didn’t know the kind of person Takanori was, and vice versa.

 

“Oh…Well, I just thought that maybe we could get to know each other…” Yutaka said, fiddling with the sleeve of his brown jacket. The look on his face almost reminded Takanori of a kicked puppy or something. And it really made the little blond wonder if this was a grown man. “Um, I also kind of thought that maybe after a while, like a few months or something that you might want to move in with me until you finish school?” Yutaka chuckled a little nervously and scratched at his wrist sheepishly.

 

Takanori gawked slightly and he also felt Akira’s hand come to a standstill on his leg. “Move…in?” He questioned, thinking that maybe he’d heard Yutaka wrong or something. But the look on the brunet’s face told him that he had indeed heard right. Yutaka wanted him to _move in_. Was he crazy?! “Um…I don’t know about that. I’m pretty happy here,” he stated bluntly, once again.

 

Out of the corner of his eye Takanori caught Akira looking at him with narrowed eyes. Akira knew that was a lie. He knew for a fact that the little blond wasn’t happy in that house and Takanori knew he knew. And that was why he didn’t return Akira’s stare when it was directed at him. The second year knew that once Yutaka was gone a conversation would _definitely_ ensue and he wasn’t sure if he was 100% ready to have that conversation even though he knew that it was something would be inevitable if he wanted to stay together with Akira. He couldn’t hide everything forever.

 

It appeared as though Yutaka was going to open his mouth to speak once more, but Takanori surprised him by cutting him off. “Let me was you a question, Yutaka.” The brunet blinked at the little blond for a few moments before he nodded as an indication for Takanori to go on. “If you’re really my brother, and you’ve really known about me for all this time.” Takanori assumed that Yutaka would have been old enough to at least have a vague memory of their parents, so that meant he’d known about Takanori all his life. “Why didn’t you eve contact me before now? Why didn’t you ever call me, email me, send me letter or something? Any kind of contact. Why wait until now?”

 

It appeared as though Yutaka was taking a moment to think over his answer. He was perceptive in picking up on the fact that he needed to word things the right way. Or his chances of creating something with Takanori would be even less. “You were adopted first,” Yutaka informed him, straying from the subject slightly. But Takanori assumed that it had to lead in the direction he was aiming to go in. “I tried and tried to get your adoptive parents to take me as well. I cried and pleaded. But they only wanted one son and I was too old.” Takanori knew why that was. Yutaka would have been too old, not as easily trainable as the young and vulnerable Takanori had been. “I knew one day I’d want to find you again and I’d want to be there for you as a brother. But when I was that young I didn’t know how to find you and as I got older I worked harder and harder. The reason I haven’t contacted you before now was because I wanted to work hard to be someone you could depend on. I want to be the kind of brother you look up to and admire. And I couldn’t do that in high school; I wanted to have a proper apartment with a stable income so I could support you.” Yutaka offered Takanori a little smile, showing off his dimples. “That’s why. I’m sorry though, I’m sorry I made you wait so long Taka.”

 

Ice ran through Takanori’s veins. He didn’t like this, Yutaka was saying too many things that get under his skin and rubbed him the wrong way. He knew he needed to retreat for a while or he would snap and with the way Yutaka had reacted to just a little rejection…Takanori knew he wouldn’t handle one of the little blond’s mood swings very well. Even Akira, who was used to them by now, struggled sometimes to keep his cool and calm his boyfriend down.

 

Takanori nodded, hand clasped tightly together on top of the counter as he levelled Yutaka with his stare. “Thank you for coming,” he said, trying hard to conceal the distress in his voice. “But I think I’ll pass. I’ve been doing just fine on my own. The fact that you’ve worked so hard is admirable and all that, but I don’t need a brother.” Takanori slid his stool back and stood up stiffly. “I’ll see you out.”

 

Yutaka stumbled over his words a little, the shock clear on his face as he watched Takanori’s back retreat towards the front door he’d come in. “W-wait,” he called out, scrambling off his chair and following after the short blond. “Takanori, can’t we just see each other occasionally? Once every two weeks to begin with and then we can go from there?”

 

Yutaka stumbled to a stop next to the little blond as he opened the door, face still cold as stone. Turning, Takanori observed his brother pensively. Yutaka’s appearance was a little scruffy and it was obvious that he was a little bit of a scatterbrain sometimes. But he had a kind face, brown eyes that had hazel in them…just like his. Even their face shapes were similar. He was sure that if he were to dye his hair brown once more he and Yutaka would look even more like brothers. Ugh, Takanori really wanted interested in that kind of crap.

 

“No thank you,” he stated blandly, holding the door open for Yutaka. “It was nice meeting you, Uke-san.”

 

It was impossible to miss the absolutely crestfallen look on Yutaka’s face. The use of such a formal term really made it clear that Takanori really didn’t want anything to do with him. And Takanori was sure that would hit Yutaka hard. But he had to be firm, if he wasn’t Yutaka would think that it was ok to keep trying to contact him. And Takanori had decided that he didn’t want that. He’d just been started to get himself stable; he didn’t need a big brother or whatever to come in a mess that up.

 

When Yutaka still didn’t move from his spot, seemingly still shocked out of his mind, Takanori sighed and let go of the door. “Make sure he leaves,” the little blond stated to Akira who had followed them in, standing off a little to the side, as he walked past the elder student towards the staircase.

 

“Takanori!” Akira called out after him, though the little blond didn’t turn around or stop or give him any kind of acknowledgement. “Matsumoto Takanori, wait!” Still, there was nothing. Takanori just kept walking up the stairs and he turned right instead of left, heading to his studio.

 

Once he reached the safety of that familiar room, the little blond shut and locked the door behind him before immediately heading to pick up his guitar. Though no matter how hard he tired to focus and just play he couldn’t stop thinking about Yutaka. He had a brother…a real life older brother! And, the funny thing was, was that Takanori really had always wanted a big brother. When he was left all on his own in that big house he’d wished he had someone to chase and fuck around with. Someone he could tease and who’d tease him back. Someone he could play fight with, play video games, watched stupid violent movies. But he also wanted someone he could rely on. Someone who he could tell anything and everything, who would always be willing to listen to him and offer him some kind of comfort or advice if he needed it. He’d always wanted a brother like that.

 

But now that there was one standing on his doorstep he was afraid. It had been so long since he’d given up on the idea of having something like that that he didn’t really know what to think. He didn’t know if he could handle opening up like that again. It had taken so long to be able to do it with Akira and he still hadn’t gotten all the way. So he really wasn’t sure if he could handle going through that and doing it all over again. Takanori knew his limits and he knew that would be too much.

 

Takanori was snapped out of his trance when a fist thumped against his door. He didn’t need to ask to know who it was and he merely sighed, opening his eyes and plucking away at his guitar again, quietly in hopes that Akira would go away. The thumping stopped and the door handle rattled. Though, upon finding that it was locked, the thumping began once again, making Takanori sigh in exasperation. “Takanori! Open up now!” Akira yelled through the door. Takanori could hear from the tone of his voice that he was pissed.

 

“No,” he called back. “Fuck off.”

 

A growl founded from the other side of the door before a clunk louder than the ones before and Takanori assumed that Akira had kicked his door. “I’m not going anywhere. You better fucking open up now! I’m not doing this running away thing anymore, Takanori. You need to fess up and face things head on.”

 

Takanori shut his eyes and shook his head. He really wasn’t ready to have this kind of conversation with Akira just yet. He didn’t want to talk about his adoption or about why he’d never mentioned it or Yutaka. Everything had been going just fine before the brunet rocked up on his doorstep. “Just leave it Akira. And while you’re at it, leave me alone!” Takanori was sure Akira probably said something after that, but he switched the settings on his amplifier over and turned it up loud enough to block out any noise, strumming deep, heavy, and aggravated chords.

 

The little blond was relieved when the banging and yelling stopped and he was left in peace. He played one of his more angsty, angry songs in order to just get his mind off everything. He liked being able to play mindlessly and he shut his eyes and the angry sounding chords left his amp, still frowning heavily.

 

Though, not five minutes later there was a rattling sound before the door to his studio was flung open to reveal an aggravated Akira standing in the doorway with a butter knife in his hand. The fucker had picked his damn lock! This was the first time Akira had ever really seen the inside of Takanori’s studio. The little blond had been careful to never reveal too much. This was his safe space and even though he trusted Akira he didn’t want to let anyone into that space.

 

Takanori’s scowl deepened as the chords he played became louder in n attempt to communicate to Akira that he _really_ wasn’t in the mood to talk. But all Akira was did was toss the knife aside and walk further into the room until he stood in front of Takanori’s amp. The scowling blond watched as Akira leaned down and yanked the chord out, effectively silencing Takanori’s playing.

 

“What the fuck?” Takanori demanded, setting his guitar aside and standing up in an attempt to make himself seem at least a little bigger than he was. Though he knew that Akira never really found him intimidating to begin with so there wasn’t really much point. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Get out of here, I’m not in the mood to talk.” Takanori pushed Akira’s shoulder, aiming him towards the door but he held tight.

 

“No, I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me what the fuck was up with that!” Akira was clearly furious about this and Takanori didn’t really understand why he cared so damn much. Well, ok…maybe he could understand a little bit. But Akira knew how he got about this shit! Couldn’t he have at least been a little more supportive or whatever?

 

“What? You wanna know about my adoption?!” Takanori asked, scrunching his small hands into fists. “You wanna know why I never told you? Why I don’t tell _anyone_? Why I’m so ashamed of it?” The little blond scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Really, birdbrain. I thought you would have figured out why I wouldn’t tell you. Am I really the kind of person who just blabs that kind of shit? You know I don’t trust people! Why would I want people to know this about me?! I’m unwanted. My parents are gone, my adoptive parents trained me to be there little fucking housekeeper. They only chose the younger one so they could train me better! I don’t have any fucking friends!” Takanori help back the urge to let out angry tears. Even though he was in his safe place he wouldn’t cry, not over this. Even if they were just angry tears.

 

Akira blinked at him for a few moments, seeing the old Takanori that he’d fought so hard to get rid of coming back. The little blond hadn’t seriously called him birdbrain for weeks. This had obviously really shaken him. Akira rolled his eyes though and shook his head, his own anger seeping through. “I wasn’t talking about your fucking adoption, idiot. I already knew about that! I have for weeks. I was talking about Yutaka! Why the fuck would you turn him away like that when all he wanted to do was make some kind of relationship with you!” The elder blond seethed, clenching his own fists. “He wasn’t asking you to move in with him now!”

 

Takanori opened his mouth to reply, ready to yell at Akira about how it was obvious that he wasn’t comfortable with having someone knew around like that. Someone who would be poking into his person life and upsetting his balance. But what the elder blond had first said made him pause and narrow his eyes suspiciously. “Wait, what? You already knew I was adopted? How…?” Takanori had never eluded to it, never said anything about, never even mention the topic of adoption in general. And the only trace of his adoption were his papers which were in his notebook…Realisation dawned on the little blond’s face and his eyes widened. “You went through my shit, didn’t you?” He questioned, voice low but beyond mad. “You fucking piece of shit! How dare you look through my stuff and invade my fucking privacy?!” How did Akira not know that that was something that would get under Takanori’s skin the most? Was he seriously that fucking desperate for answers that he didn’t want to wait for Takanori to trust him enough to tell him?

 

Akira’s face paled slightly and the nervousness was obvious. “No, I didn’t mean to,” he said, anger dissipating very quickly. “I was putting your clothes away and I picked up your book and they fell out. I swear. Takanori, I-”

 

“Shut the fuck up,” the little blond said, face forming a stony mask as he stared at Akira the exact same way he had at Yutaka not an hour ago. It was the stare that Akira knew meant Takanori was done talking and there would be no more argument. “I fucking trusted you, arsehole. I let you into my house, I told you things I never told anyone else before. I let you take my fucking virginity! And then you go through my shit, even after everything I already gave you.” Takanori folded his arms over his chest, it was the closest he could get to hugging himself right then. “Well have you got everything you want now? There’s not more answers to look for. That’s what you wanted to begin with, wasn’t it? You wanted to know why I was so fucked up and anti-social. Well congratulations, you did it. You got through to the loner kid, made him popular, fucked him, uncovered all his secrets. Now you can go and tell all your stupid little friends.”

 

“Takanori, will you just shut up and listen to me for a second?” Akira said in a firm voice, latching his hand onto Takanori’s forearm. “Look, it’s not what you think. I-”

 

“Don’t _fucking_ touch me!” The little blond snapped, yanking his arm away from Akira’s grasp. “I don’t want to listen to anything you have to say. You’re a fucking liar, Akira. And I want you the fuck out of my house. Now.”

 

Takanori’s steely gaze cut right through Akira’s chest. Takanori was…kicking him out? After everything that had happened with them, the little blond didn’t even wanted listen to one word he had to say. It was over just like that? Surely not…Takanori was just mad and scared. He always did this. He always shut people out when he was feeling vulnerable. Surely that was it, he wasn’t really going to dump Akira over this.

 

“Aren’t you listening to me, shit for brains?!” The little blond screeched. “I said I want you out! So go! Get the fuck out of here!!” Takanori charged at Akira, pushing and shoving him until he was out the door. “If I come out and find you’re still here I’m going to call the fucking cops on you. Got it, arsehole?!” With one last shove, Takanori swung the door shut once more and left Akira standing out in the hallway.

 

As soon as the door was shut, Takanori pressed his back against it and slid down until his bum touched the carpeted floor. With his knees pulled up to his chest tightly he let the tears start to flow. He buried his face against his knees as his shoulders shook. He couldn’t believe. In his entire life Takanori had never felt so much betrayal. He had put so much trust in Akira and expressed how much he liked his privacy, only for the blond third year to go behind his back and look through his things. Finding the one piece of information that Takanori really wasn’t ready to give away just yet.

 

The ironic thing was though, was that he was getting there. He’d been thinking about it the other day. He’d really been thinking about telling Akira everything, about taking that final step to really let him in for good and opening himself up. But now Akira had ruined that. In fact, he’d ruined it ages ago and he’d decided to keep it from Takanori. And that meant that he _knew_ the little blond would get mad. He _knew_ that it was something he wasn’t meant to do and yet he did it anyway, breaking all of Takanori’s trust in him.

 

But now he would have to learn to function again. He’d gotten so used to having Akira there, to being able to hug him and kiss him; even in the time they’d been together which seemed like a long time, but in hindsight wasn’t really that long. It still felt like a long time though. Takanori realised that he never should have let Akira in, he never should have taken that risk and let that blond idiot play with his heart. Takanori wondered if it had all been about the sex. That’s what had drawn Akira to him in the first place. What if all of this had just been a ploy to finally get in Takanori’s pants? God, the little blond felt like he would die if that was the case.

 

Hours later, when he finally immerged from his room he wandered to out to see the door across the hall, Akira’s door, was left open. The bed was made perfectly and once Takanori was inside, he opened the drawers to find them empty, same as the closet. Akira’s phone charger was gone, as was the noseband he left lying on the bedside table. Walking back into his own room, Takanori found Akira’s hair products gone from his bathroom, same as his razor.

 

The realisation hit him hard that Akira really was gone. He hadn’t even stayed to fight; he’d really just packed up and left. Just like that. The little blond sobbed miserably, standing in the middle of his room as tears streaked down his face. In a fit of rage, he picked up the PS3 that he knew Akira loved playing so much and threw it against the ground. The consol shattered into pieces at the blond’s feet. Sobbing loudly, Takanori threw himself onto his bed to bury his face in Akira’s pillow. It still smelled exactly liked him having only been slept on the night before.

 

Why did Akira have to turn out to be a goddamn liar?


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.

Takanori spent most of the remainder of the week and the weekend in his studio. He wrote song after song after song; what he used to do before Akira came along. He’d been thinking about it all to begin with and he came to the conclusion that Akira was bad. Since that idiotic blond had come along Takanori had gotten weak. He’d allowed people to get under his skin, to get far too close to him. All of this had worn down his walls, the ones he vowed never to lower for anyone no matter what because he was done with people. They all proved to be arseholes in the end. And he was sure that if he’d let Yutaka in, he would turn out to be exactly the same.

 

Takanori had been made a fool of. He couldn’t believe that he’d let Akira parade him around the school like some kind of trophy under the guise of being his boyfriend. How ridiculous. Takanori wondered if they were all having a good laugh. If they were all sitting at their table talking about how pathetic the poor little orphan boy is with his life living as a maid. It all made the little blond see red.

 

The most annoying part about it all though, was that under the surface…he missed Akira. Of course, there was no way that he would ever actually admit that. No way. But deep down, he really did. He missed waking up to that stupid idiot playing with his hair or kissing his neck. He missed scolding Akira for trying to make breakfast and making a mess everywhere. He missed leaning into him while they watched movies. He missed the way Akira was able to make him feel so safe and protected just by hugging him.

 

“Ugh,” Takanori sighed, stopping the banging of his drums to hang his head. He switched the recording device off and placed his drumsticks down on the snare. It’d almost been a week since he’d been to school. Soon enough he’d probably receive a phone call from the school asking where he was and why he hadn’t shown up in so long. If he kept going like that without any kind of explanation he would soon be expelled. That wouldn’t be such a bad thing, Takanori thought. At least he wouldn’t have to see Akira again and he wouldn’t have to face the looks on his classmate’s faces as he walked through the school. Maybe…

 

The following Monday, Takanori finally got up the courage to wake up and put on his school uniform, do his hair and makeup and walk out the front door. Once he reached the school gates, in classic Takanori fashion, he wore a scowl and refused to look anyone in the eye though he didn’t walk with his head down. He wasn’t that much of a coward. He wouldn’t make himself any weaker. It appeared that people had indeed heard about his and Akira’s breakup. Though…strangely, none of them approached him about everything else, no one pointed, no one laughed. He wondered if maybe people were too intimidated by him. The little blond remembered one time when Akira had mentioned that people were kind of afraid of him.

 

Takanori’s response to that was, good. That’s how he wanted to keep it.

 

As he walked through the courtyard, Takanori caught a glimpse of a familiar table of people out of the corner of his eye. They all sat around laughing and joking, occasionally punching one another in the arm. Typical boy shit. The little blond watched as Kouyou nudged Akira’s shoulder, the blond had his back to Takanori. Though he turned around quickly when Kouyou said something to him. Takanori had a pretty good guess that the honey blond was informing Akira of Takanori’s presence at school that day.

 

 Akira’s head whipped around and for a moment his eyes searched the courtyard before they locked with Takanori’s. The little blond wasn’t quite sure what to make of the look on Akira’s face. Though, before he really knew what to do Akira was getting up and walking across the courtyard. People turned to watch. Takanori narrowed his eyes as Akira’s frame drew closer and closer to him and he looked away, beginning to walk faster.

 

 “Taka, wait.” Akira jogged the rest of the distance to catch up to Takanori, walking along side him and matching his quick pace with what seemed like little effort.

 

 “Don’t call me that,” the little blond snapped, speeding up once more only to growl when Akira matched his pace once more. Damn his short fucking legs!

 

 Akira frowned and took a step in front of him, stopping the little blond in his tracks and, much to Takanori’s dismay, he almost smacked right into Akira’s chest. “Takanori. Look, I’m sorry, ok? Won’t you even listen to anything I have to say? I do have an explanation, you know.”

 

 Takanori took a step back and folded his skinny little arms over his narrow chest, scowling up at Akira. “No, Akira. I don’t want to hear what you have to say, I don’t want to hear your shitty explanation; I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.” He huffed and shook his head incredulously. “You don’t get it, do you? It doesn’t matter what you have to say. Because you did the one thing you knew would get under my skin more than anything else. You knew that I would never let you just look through my things like that. You know I wouldn’t want you to know those kinds of things about me unless I told you myself. You knew all of that and yet you did it anyway. You broke my trust and now I have nothing left to say to you because we’re over.” Takanori averted his cold gaze and stepped around the taller blond third year. “Now, I would appreciate it greatly if you just left me the fuck alone.”

 

Takanori’s shoulder brushed against Akira as he left, walking into the school building and leaving Akira standing in the courtyard rather shocked.

 

The first place that Takanori went was the fire escape on the side of the school building. It was a place he realised he hadn’t been in weeks. Maybe even a few months. He missed it, it was a place that always made him feel so much calmer. Maybe that was because the fire escape was where his only friend resided most of the time and the raven exuded so much calm that it filled the space up easily.

 

Takanori walked out and shut the door behind him, seeing Aoi leaning against the railing like always with a cigarette perched between two fingers. Sighing quietly, Takanori’s shoes clinked against the metal floor as he crossed the small distance to lean against the railing next to his friend. Aoi didn’t say anything just yet, but handed Takanori a smoke which he accepted gratefully and lit it up, inhaling the toxins that did a wonderful job in calming his nerves.

 

After a few moments, Takanori turned to look at Aoi and sighed. “You know, don’t you?” The raven turned his head to return Takanori’s stare, the look on his face was one that was almost asking if Takanori was stupid or something like that. He still didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. “Of course you do,” the blond mused. “This is so stupid. He went through my stuff. Even you know how I would feel about that, after everything I told him and how much I trusted him, he still did exactly what I would not want him to do.”

 

Aoi took a drag of his smoke and let it out slowly before speaking. “Did you let him explain?”

 

“Are you kidding me?” Takanori glanced over at his friend as if he’d gone insane. “Of course not. I don’t want to hear anything that shit for brains has to say. Why should I listen? He broke my trust.”

 

“Maybe he had something worth saying on the matter,” Aoi suggested in that same cool, calm and collected voice that he always had. If he wasn’t such an easy person for Takanori to like he would get annoyed. But as Aoi was basically his only friend he was unable to get pissed at him.

 

“He didn’t,” Takanori stated blandly. “See, even you aren’t listening to me. Come on, Aoi. Don’t you get it? He went through my stuff. Things that he should have never seen, things that I never wanted anyone to see. What gave him that right? And after he did something like that why should I listen to anything he has to say?”

 

“Because you love him.”

 

Takanori froze, head snapping around to look at Aoi. “I don’t.” There was no way! Even before now when they had been on better than good terms he didn’t love Akira. It was way too soon to be saying any of that shit to one another. Plus…they were teenagers! Since when did teenagers have the capacity to fall in love? Sure, Takanori had liked Akira and Akira liked him, maybe. There was still not love. How absurd.

 

“He loves you,” Aoi reasoned, still as calm as ever. He was acting like he wasn’t talking about something of such high caliber. Did he have any idea what he was saying?!

 

Takanori scoffed and rolled his eyes before turning his body to lean his side against the railing and eyeing Aoi suspiciously. “And how the fuck would you know that? He’s a lying piece of shit. Everything he’s ever told me is probably total bullshit.”

 

Aoi shrugged, Takanori’s death glare obviously not really mattering to him all that much. It was like water off a duck’s back to the raven haired teen. “He told me.” Usually Takanori would have not questioned Aoi’s judgment on a situation. Not with how observant the raven was and how easy it was for him to see through people’s bullshit. But this was ridiculous.

 

“You’ve been talking to him,” Takanori stated. “Fuck,” he cursed, pushing off the railing in aggravation. Snubbing his half finished cigarette out against the railing he threw it over the side and fixed Aoi with his cold glare again. “It’s obvious that I can’t trust you now either. It’s probably Kouyou. You’ll listen to anything that fuckwit says when he’s got his dick up your arse. I wouldn’t be surprised if he told you to take Akira’s side on this.”

 

Scoffing one last time when all Aoi did was remain silent, Takanori turned and walked back into the school building. He was so done with this bullshit. Without Aoi who did he have left? It’s not like he thought everyone was against him. And even if they were he didn’t give a shit what the entire school thought. But, much to the short blond’s chagrin, he did care what Aoi thought and…what Akira thought, even though he really shouldn’t have and he hated that he did. But, in true Takanori style, he would just ignore what he didn’t like and move on.

 

He walked through the halls as the first bell rang, arriving at his English classroom early and taking his seat at the back. The teacher was obviously surprised to see him there and she came over to talk to him. He listened half heartedly as she went through everything he’d missed over the past week. The little blond really wasn’t interested, but he didn’t have anything better to do so he just listened.

 

The entire day went a similar way as did the rest of the week. It would appear that things had gone back to normal. Akira didn’t talk to him, didn’t even spare him a glance and Takanori figured that he really must have meant nothing to the blond third year after all. It hurt…a lot. But he didn’t let that show. At least not until he was in the music room at school or in his studio at home, because he was sick of crying. He was tired of feeling so weak and he knew that he could have avoided all of this if he had have just kept Akira out to begin with. If only he hadn’t opened that door that night when Akira was sitting out on his driveway, if he had just gotten up out of Akira’s seat that day in detention. God, things would have been completely different for both of them now.

 

That Friday, Takanori marched into the school grounds and made a beeline for the headmaster’s office. He asked the receptionist if he could see the man and, after a short wait, he was let into the headmaster’s office where he took a seat in front of the large mahogany desk. The middle aged man sat behind his desk with his arms folded over his chest and a slight smile on his lips as a welcome to the teen.

 

“Mastumoto-kun,” he said, uncrossing his arms and sitting up a little more. “How can I help you this morning?”

 

“Headmaster,” Takanori greeted him in the same way with a little bow of his head. “I’d like to hand you this.” The little blond held up an envelope and put it on the desk, sliding it across to the elder man. “It’s my official letter of resignation from the school.”

 

The smile on the headmaster’s face fell to reveal a slight, confused frown. “Mastumoto-kun, are you sure?” He asked, tentatively reaching over to take the envelope. He opened it up and brought forth the letter it contained, reading over it to indeed see that it revealed that the little blond would like to leave the school. “Will you be attending a different high school? Is it something about this school that I can possibly fix for you? Do I need to help you switch classes or take different subjects?”

 

Takanori hesitated a moment before he shook his head. It was probably best not to tell the headmaster about his relationship with Akira, that wasn’t something the headmaster needed to get involved with. “No sir,” the blond said, shaking his head once more. “It’s nothing like that. I just don’t wish to attend school anymore; it’s something that I’ve been thinking about for quite a while and I’ve decided that I’m going to try and chase a career in music. And I can’t do that from here. I’m very sorry.” He bowed a little once more to show his respect for the elder man before standing up

 

"Good luck with everything, Takanori,” the headmaster said. Takanori paused in the doorway and looked back at the man behind the desk who had a knowing look on his face. It confused the blond for a moment but he brushed it off and bowed a little before leaving, shutting the door behind him once more.

 

He walked back through the school building and exited out into the courtyard which was still teeming with students before class started. Takanori felt…good. It felt like there’d been a weight lifted off his shoulders. He no longer had to worry about assignments that would never mean anything to him, teachers that pissed him off, no tests that would never apply to anything he wanted to do, no arseholes to get under his skin and wriggle their way into his consciousness.

 

As he walked through the courtyard Takanori caught Aoi with his eyes. The raven was leaning against a tree a little ways off to the side, watching him. The look on Aoi’s face was knowing. It was like he could tell exactly what Takanori had just been doing, that he knew everything that was going on inside the little blond’s mind. And that pissed Takanori off a little. He kept his eyes on Aoi for just a moment before snapping them away, ignoring his former friend as he left towards the gate. A couple of people did the same as Aoi and watched him leave; though those idiots had more of a dumbfounded look on their face than knowing. Takanori still kept his head high though, marching out the front gate and not looking back.

 

*          *          *

 

Takanori didn’t regret his decision to leave school at all. In fact, he was loving it. He’d been looking into music schools were he could go and get the kind of education that he wanted. He could sleep in for as long as he wanted, he could spend all day in his studio if he wanted to, he could eat whenever he wanted. Well, he could do that any time since he practically lived alone. But he always felt that he had an obligation to go to school, so now that he didn’t, he felt a lot better. More relaxed.

 

Akira had also been a minimal thought in his head. Though, Takanori refused to think that he’d been purposely distracting himself so that he wouldn’t have the time to think about the blond third year. Akira needed to be out of his head. Gone. Goodbye. Now that he’d left school he was certain he wasn’t going to hear from the elder teenager again. They would both just move on and not see each other again. It was fairly clear that Takanori would also never hear from Aoi again. The raven had taken Akira’s side as well. It made an undeniable sense of loneliness wash over Takanori, knowing that he literally had no one less. Even before Akira Takanori had always had Aoi. In fact, he remembered the first day he’d ever met the quirky teen.

 

“Screw off, fuckwit,” the feisty little first year high schooler snapped, walking quickly away from the second year who had apparently made it his mission to get under Takanori’s skin from day one. It was really starting to get on Takanori’s nerves. He was considering just turning around and socking the idiot right in the fucking jaw. But he’d promised himself that he’d wait at least a month before getting suspended.

 

“Aw, come on, Takanori,” Akira mused, catching the little black and red haired teen’s wrist.

 

Takanori wrenched his hand away from Akira like he’d been burned. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he spat. “I’m gonna have to disinfect my fucking hand now. Gross.” He wiped his hand on his trousers like he was really disgusted. Akira seemed rather astonished at Takanori’s nerve. So he took the opportunity to escape from the second year, darting away, turning a corner and seeing a door out to one of the fire escape platforms on the outside of the school.

 

Takanori breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he was out on the escape. Though his relief disappeared a second later when he spotted some kid he didn’t think he recognized. “Fucking great,” he cursed, sighing. He wondered why the kid didn’t turn around and look at him though. He knew that if someone had crashed his chill out spot he would have been pissed. Narrowing his eyes, Takanori thought as he surveyed the raven haired boy. Now that he took a moment, the guy did seem familiar. But Takanori had never heard him say anything…to anyone actually. Was he mute? Or just-

 

“Are you going to keep standing there?” The guy asked without even turning around. The way he said it wasn’t really rude. More like…bored. It was a little amusing actually. A soft sigh came from the guy lips and he turned offering Takanori one of his cigarettes. “Don’t pay any attention to Akira,” the raven said. “He’s harmless, really.”

 

Takanori blinked a few times, a little shocked, before he took the smoke and lit it up. He stepped up beside the raven, leaning against the railing. “How did you know it was Akira who was annoying me?” The raven haired teen turned and looked at Takanori with an expression that read ‘is that a serious question?’ “Right,” Takanori mumbled. No one was as much of an arsehole as Akira. Of course it was him.

 

“I’ve seen him harass you before.”

 

“Oh…”

 

“I’m Aoi,” the guy offered.

 

“Takanori.”

 

The little blond sighed, placing his guitar down on his lap and running his hand through his hair. Really, his and Aoi’s meeting hadn’t been all that special in most people’s eyes. But it just set a precedent for what their future interactions would be. Aoi had always had Takanori’s back in his own…quietly comforting kind of way. And Takanori appreciated that more than most people knew. Probably even more than what Aoi know. But then again…maybe not. Especially since Aoi seemed to know everything, even when Takanori wished that he didn’t.

 

Takanori ran a hand over his face, placing his guitar back on its stand and getting up. He’d been in the studio for around seven hours already and he was starting to get a little hungry. Leaving his room, he shut the door behind him before wandering downstairs. He meandered about in the kitchen for a little while, wondering what exactly he should make himself. Something glistened just under the counter as he walked past and the blond frowned. Bending down to pick it up he held the piece of glass between his thumb and forefinger. It must have been…from when he’d dropped that glass the first night Akira stayed over. Takanori sighed as he remembered the elder blond rushing to his rescue, carrying him to the bathroom when he’d cut his foot open, taking the glass out and patching him up. Takanori grunted, throwing the glass into the bin and opening up the cupboard.

 

As he went to reach for the bread his hand brushed an unopened bottle of pancake mix. He was struck with yet another memory of Akira trying to make pancakes for him and actually succeeding. But he’d made an absolute mess of the kitchen. Takanori remembered the tenderness that’d been there when he watched Akira struggle with his knife and fork. How he’d had to teach the elder blond how to use them. That was also the day they’d had their first kiss and the first time Takanori had really given Akira a proper smile. It’d been a good day.

 

“Fuck,” Takanori cursed, grabbing the bread and slamming the cupboard door shut. Huffing, he grabbed a few things out of the fridge before beginning to make himself a simple sandwich. He needed to stop thinking about all of this shit. Akira was seriously out of his life now. He was irreleva-

 

“Takanori?”

 

The blond second year almost jumped ten feet in the air, dropping the knife he’d been using as he spun around to face a painfully familiar student. His brow creased and he shook his head as he scowled. “Akira…What the fuck are you doing here? How did you even get into my house?”

 

Akira sighed, holding up his hand. “You gave me a spare key,” he said. Takanori grunted. Oh yeah, he remembered that now. The little blond curled his hand against the counter, biting the inside of his cheek as he eyed Akira suspiciously. “Look…I know you don’t want me here. But-”

 

“You’re right. I don’t,” Takanori stated, taking a step back as Akira took one into the kitchen. “Seriously, get out of my house. I already told you, I’m done with you.” He stepped back again. But he’d soon run out of space and bump into the pantry doors. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Takanori said, his voice a little more strained now. Being around Akira was still painful and it was making his chest hurt but he didn’t want to cry in front of Akira again; he didn’t want to show that kind of weakness.

 

“Takanori. Just let me speak,” Akira said, his voice less gentle and more commanding and it made Takanori want to flinch, but he refused to. The little blond opened his mouth to snap but Akira spoke over him. “Shut up! I deserve just as much of a chance to speak as you did to yell at me.” Takanori bit his lip as Akira came to stand directly in front of him until they were almost chest to chest. Once the elder blond had snapped at him, his face softened again. “Look, I did the wrong thing. I know that. I was putting your clean clothes away when I saw it, I shouldn’t have looked through your book but all I’d wanted to see was those beautiful lyrics you’re always writing. Your papers fell out while I was looking. That isn’t an excuse though. Like I said, I’d been doing the wrong thing. And I’ve never regretted anything more. I’m so sorry.”

 

Takanori shut his eyes. It was really hard not to just forgive Akira straight away. Because that’s really what Takanori wanted to do. He hated to admit it to himself but he didn’t want to break up with Akira. He hated that he felt like he couldn’t trust the elder blond anymore, because he wanted to. So badly. Takanori’s eyes snapped open when Akira’s hand touched his hip, making him jump slightly. He kept his head down, not daring to look up at Akira just yet. But he didn’t push the elder blond’s hand away either and Akira took that as a sign. Sighing quietly, he put his other hand on Takanori’s cheek, stroking his hair back a little.

 

“I know you still want this,” Akira practically whispered. “I know you, Takanori. I know you’re fragile and I know that you don’t like people seeing the real you. But you can trust me. Who your parents are don’t matter to me...and I feel like I understand you more now. I’m sorry you didn’t get to tell me yourself, but I’d never intended to see those papers.”  Akira ducked his head down and pressed his forehead against Takanori’s. “Please look at me, Taka…”

 

Takanori’s hands lay limp at his sides, trembling slightly. He didn’t know what to do. He knew Akira as much as he wished he didn’t right now. And he knew what it sounded like when the elder blond was telling him the truth. Right now…he was. Takanori’s forehead creased as he shut his eyes and tried to will himself not to give in so easily. But it was so hard when Akira was standing there so vulnerable in front of him…asking so sincerely for another chance. Letting out a shaky breath, Takanori slowly lifted his head and locked his eyes with Akira’s.

 

The elder blond gave a slightly relieved smile. “Taka…” He lifted his other hand from Takanori’s waist and placed it on his other cheek, stroking his thumbs over Takanori’s cheeks, catching the few tears that Takanori hadn’t noticed he’d let spill. But it was ok…because Akira was crying as well. It was kind of gratifying to see Akira cry, because it was something that Takanori never remembered happening. It made the whole thing so much more real. “Takanori,” Akira repeated his name, like it was the only word he could say. Slowly, he leaned in and placed a tender kiss against the corner of Takanori’s mouth. He shut his eyes, just resting his lips gently against the smaller teen’s. “I love you,” he whispered.

 

Takanori’s breath caught in his throat and he hiccupped quietly. Akira…had just told him he loved him. It was so hard for Takanori to comprehend. No one had ever loved him before. He sobbed once before he finally lifted his arms and slung them around Akira’s neck, bringing him down for a kiss. Takanori kissed Akira like he never had before. It was full of passion and forgiveness and love and kindness. Everything Takanori felt for Akira he poured into that kiss. And Akira did the same in return, letting his arms drop around Takanori’s waist to pull him in a tight as possible.

 

For the first time since the argument Takanori knew that he was going to be ok. Until he heard a clatter at the entrance to the kitchen and an outraged cry of, “Takanori?!” The little blond pulled away from Akira abruptly and stared at the two figures in the doorway, feeling his chest start to feel tight again as he stared back at the two shocked faces.

 

“Mother…Father…”


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takanori liked to think that he hated everybody equally. Though, he had to admit, somewhat begrudgingly, that he hated a few less than others.

Awkward silence filled the living room, to the point that it was almost suffocating, as Takanori sat beside Akira; his parents' eyes boring into both of them and neither pair of them looking very happy either. Takanori wasn't really sure what he should do or say, it had been so long since he'd been in the same room as his parents, and really he felt like he didn't even know them. They hadn't been a consistent part of his life since he was twelve years old. Now they were just the people who owned the house he lived in and looked after. His employers.

 

"I hope you know that we are very disappointed in you, Takanori," his father said, the look on his face conveying exactly that; plus just a little more. The main expression, besides his disappointment, was clearly his disgust. It was written all over his face, as plain as day.

 

Takanori stayed silent. A quick glance Akira's way revealed that the older blond was not at all impressed with their situation and Takanori could tell he was just busting to say something about it. They'd been sitting there for about twenty minutes now with hardly any words exchanged between any of them and Takanori felt like he was about to burst. He lowered his head, feeling his own anger bubble. He was sick and tired of being treated like one of their possessions. He was old enough to do as he pleased, especially when they were never around to care for him anyway!

 

"This is dumb."

 

Takanori's head snapped to the side when Akira finally opened his mouth. Really, Takanori had been wondering what took so long since Akira wasn’t normally one to keep quiet when there was something to be said. But he knew now there'd be many more words to follow now that the older blond had opened his mouth.

 

"Excuse me?" Takanori's mother asked, her finely trimmed eyebrows raising in the air as she looked over at Akira. Surely they were thinking that he was never the kind of person they would imagine their son with. Because first of all, he was a man. And secondly, he didn't come from a rich family, he didn't dress in a proper manner, and he didn't have respect for them. Those things were all negative in Takanori's parents' book.

 

"I said this is dumb. You know, idiotic, stupid, bullshit." Both of the little blond's parents' raised their eyebrows now, surprised by the third year student's use of language. "I want to ask why you look so horrified. Is it because Takanori is finally happy? Because he has someone to care for him? Or is it because I'm not a woman?" Akira narrowed his eyes.

 

Takanori's father scowled at the older blond. "That is _exactly_ it, my boy," he said, his upper lip curling slightly. "You are not a woman. You are very much a man and that is completely unacceptable. Homosexuality is not welcome in our home and we're absolutely disgusted that you've managed to drag Takanori into this way of life."

 

"What are you talking about? He didn't-"

 

"Enough, Takanori," the older woman said, holding up her hand in a gesture for him to be quiet. "We don't need your input on this."

 

"Like hell you don't," Akira snapped. "If anything, his input is the one we need the most!"

 

"Akira, please..." Takanori was feeling like shit. The only people he ever felt intimidated by and weak under were his parents. He had absolutely no clue why he found them to have this kind of power over him, but they did and they always had.

 

"No, Taka. You can't let him them keep treating you like this, it's not fair," Akira insisted. Scowling, the elder blond turned back to Takanori's parents. "Listen, it doesn't matter what you say or do, I won't leave him. Takanori and I are in love, there's nothing you can do about that, I'm afraid."

 

"Takanori..." His father prompted.

 

The youngest of the bunch bit the inside of his cheek. One part of him wanted to kiss Akira like he'd never kissed him before and the other part wanted to smack the shit out of him. This was going to get him into so much trouble with his parents. But then he thought...why was he so afraid of them, anyway? It wasn't like they had done anything but just keep him alive. They hadn't offered him any love for such a long time that he hadn't known what love really felt like anymore until Akira came along. Even then it had taken him such a long time to be able to let someone in. When he really thought about it...it was probably his parents' fault that he had those issues, that he found it hard to make friends and let people in to see the real him.

 

Frowning, Takanori sat up a little straighter and met his mother's eyes and then his father's. "Akira is right," he stated, much to the shock of the two adults in front of him. Another glance at Akira showed that the older boy was grinning like the Cheshire cat.

 

Swallowing thickly, Takanori mentally convinced himself that this was the right thing to do. He knew it was and he'd probably known for quite some time now. He nodded to himself before continuing. "He's right. We're in love, andI hate to disappoint you, but I'm gay. There's nothing anyone can do about that. Akira didn't force me to do anything. I've known I'm gay since I was thirteen years old. So don't blame Akira, it's not his fault.”

 

For a moment the room was dead silent, Takanori’s parents looking at him with shock written all over their faces. More than anything, Takanori thought that it was probably because he’d had the balls to talk back to them. He hadn’t ever done that before. Then of course there was the revelation that he was, indeed, gay. He was sure his parents wouldn’t be all that happy about that and it was rather clear that they weren’t. In fact, he was pretty sure that his dad’s face started to turn red.

 

“Takanori…” The old man stood up from his chair, hands clenched by his sides as he walked up to the lounge that Takanori and Akira were sitting on. The taller blond was quick to stand up, stepping a little more in front of Takanori to block him from his adoptive father. Akira probably wasn’t wrong in thinking that the old man would take a swing at the young teen. But the man merely dismissed Akira. “Takanori. You have the rest of the day to gather your things and get yourself the hell out of my house.”

 

Takanori cringed slightly, but forced himself to square his shoulders towards the man who meant almost nothing to him. He stood up, staring at his father for a few moments, wondering if he should say something or not. There were so many things he wanted to say; he wanted to tell him how much both his father and his mother had let him down, he wanted to tell them that they should have just left him in that orphanage, he wanted to tell them that once he walked out that door that would be it. He didn’t want them to ever contact him again even if, one day, their guilt was crushing.

 

But instead of all of these things, Takanori clenched his jaw before he reached out and grabbed Akira’s hand. “Come on, Aki…” He mumbled as he tugged his glaring boyfriend along behind him.

 

As soon as they were upstairs inside Takanori’s room the older blond pulled him into a hug, enveloping the second year in his embrace. “Are you ok?” Akira murmured, pressing his nose into Takanori’s mop of blond hair, peppering kisses over his temple. “Taka…?” A tiny sob reached the third year’s ears and his arms tightened instantly, drawing the younger boy against him that much tighter. “Hey, don’t worry about them, ok? Their opinion of you doesn’t matter. No matter what I’m here for you and I promise everything’s gonna be just fine.”

 

Akira was taken aback slightly when Takanori shook his head, chuckling quietly. “That’s not it…” He muttered, his short arms still hugging Akira’s broader form as he pressed his face against the other teen’s shoulder. “I don’t know…It’s just…they’ve been such a negative thing hanging over my head for so long and it feels like it’s a relief to finally have an excuse to walk away, you know?” Takanori hated to sound like a typical teenager complaining about his parents, but he didn’t really feel like he was in a typical teenager’s situation.

 

Akira chuckled and pulled back slightly, enough to look down at his little blond boyfriend’s teary face. Smiling fondly, Akira cupped Takanori’s face and used his thumbs to swipe away the other boy’s tears. “Well, at least you aren’t distraught about it. Hey?” Akira grinned, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Takanori’s perfectly pouty lips. “I love you.”

 

“Mm… Love you too,” Takanori murmured back against Akira’s lips. They stood like that for a few moments, exchanging gentle touches and soft kisses. Eventually though Takanori bit Akira’s lip, rolling the flesh between his teeth before he pulled back with a cheeky smile on his face. “I should start packing.” Takanori didn’t know where he was going to stay, but he needed to get cracking if he wanted to have all of his stuff out by the end of the day. He wasn’t so much concerned about the gaming consoles and all that; it was more his instruments that he was worried about.

 

At some point in time his parents had left and gone off somewhere, Takanori didn’t really give a shit where as long as they weren’t around to hassle him. He had a few bags of clothes packed up as well as his makeup and hair products, his electronics. He had no way of transporting any of it, but he would figure something out.

 

Takanori was in the midst of putting his guitars into their cases when he heard Akira at the door. The older blond had never seen the inside of his studio, but there was really no point in hiding it now since they would be gone soon enough. “So this is where you spend all your time,” Akira mused as he walked in, looking around at everything. “Impressive.” Takanori watched as he ran his fingers over the keyboard of the large Apple computer; which was full of top-notch editing software. Takanori couldn’t afford to lose that stuff.

 

“Yeah,” Takanori shrugged as he carefully packed a few of his effectors into a box. “I have no idea where I’m gonna put all this stuff…” He might have to put it into storage. But then…with what money? He didn’t even know where he was going to live! Maybe he would need to ask Aoi to help him out. But then he didn’t really even know Aoi all that much. The obvious answer, of course, was to go and live with Akira. But Akira’s mother was poor and she clearly had enough trouble supporting herself and her two children, Takanori couldn’t put that kind of burden on her. That would be cruel.

 

“Hey, Taka.” The little blond looked up as Akira sat down just behind him, winding his arms around the smaller boy’s waist. Takanori smiled a little, leaning back against his boyfriend. “I know you’re worried about where you’ll stay…”

 

“I swear you read my mind sometimes,” the little blond scoffed, turning his head to look over his shoulder as Akira pecked the corner of his lips.

 

The third year student shrugged, “I’m just that good.” Takanori scoffed once more. “Actually…I called in a favour to help you,” Akira said and this made Takanori perk up slightly. Frowning a little in confusion, he pulled himself away from Akira’s grasp. Who could he have possible called that would want to help him out?

 

“Hello Takanori…”

 

The smaller teen snapped towards the door so fast his head might have very well spun off his damn shoulders. He narrowed his eyes at the figure that stood in the doorway and the little blond was on his feet in milliseconds. “What the hell are you doing here?” He growled, looking between the man and his boyfriend. “You called _him_?” Takanori snapped. “What the fuck, Akira?”

 

“Taka, calm down,” the third year said as he stood up as well. “He’s here to _help_ you.” The little blond pursed his lips and folded his arm sending a harsh glare at his brother. “Takanori, look at me.” Akira grabbed Takanori’s shoulders and turned the second year to face him. “You can’t keep pushing him out of your life. Yutaka is trying to make a connection with you. Ok, you’re angry because you never knew about him before…but don’t push him away now. You don’t have to push everyone away.” Akira stared directly into Takanori’s eyes, trying as hard as he could to convey his point to the younger teen. Takanori needed to start letting more people in, especially since he’d come so far already.

 

The little blond stuck his bottom lip out slightly and Akira rolled his eyes, flicking the plump flesh which only caused Takanori to glare at him harder. He stuck to his silence for a good minute or so before he finally sighed. “Fine,” he growled. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” he snapped when Akira gave him a cheesy grin. “You too.” The little blond turned towards the also grinning Yutaka. Neither of them listened to him.

 

“You both suck,” Takanori grumbled as he went back to packing up his effectors. He heard Yutaka chuckle from behind him and he glared over his shoulder at the brunet, who held his hands up in defeat. Damn him and his…kind face…and those dimples. Takanori huffed. “How do you even have Yutaka’s number?” Takanori asked Akira, shooting him an accusing look.

 

“Well,” The elder blond scratched the back of his head with a little chuckle. “When you stormed off after he first showed up we ended up having a little chat. I told him that you would eventually come around and that he shouldn’t give up hope. Because think about it, if I hadn’t have stuck around you and I wouldn’t be where we are now,” Akira pointed out and, even though he didn’t say it aloud, Takanori knew it was a valid point. “So I got his number, said I’d contact him.”

 

“Don’t worry, Takanori,” Yutaka jumped in. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m gonna stick around and show you just what an awesome brother I really am.” The brunet grinned, making Takanori’s skin crawl slightly. But only because he was a dork and it made the little blond feel embarrassed for him.

 

Takanori stayed quiet for a few moments, though the scowl that had been on his face was easing slightly. “Yeah…well, you still suck,” he grumbled over to Akira.

 

“Only for you, baby.”

 

“Akira!”

 

*          *          *

 

It was around three hours later when the three young men were all loading the last of Takanori’s belongings into Yutaka’s car. They’d had to make a few trips because Takanori had so many instruments, they especially struggled with the drum kit. But Takanori threw the last bag of clothes into the back of Yutaka’s car with a huff. It was hard to believe that this was really happening. He was really leaving this house, leaving his adoptive parents…and moving into his brother’s house! Yutaka seemed pretty pleased though, since he’d finally gotten what he wanted.

 

Takanori sat in the back of the car with Akira, the older blond holding Takanori’s smaller hand in his own, stroking his thumb over it. The final ride to Yutaka’s apartment was quiet and it remained that way as everything was moved into the humble two bedroom place. It was definitely a lot smaller than what Takanori was used to…but he wasn’t really sure that would bother him all that much.

 

Yutaka left Akira and Takanori to themselves as he went to prepare dinner; apparently he was quite the cook. Takanori sat on the double bed, which was yet another thing that was a lot different. He was used to his king size. “You won’t be living with me anymore…” he mumbled, looking up at Akira who moved to crouch down in front of him, taking his hands.

 

“No…”

 

It was something both of them had grown so used to over the past…however many months. Had it been six months? Surely, it must have been close to that. Takanori didn’t really remember what it was like to live without Akira. He’d grown so used to the other teen’s presence. The younger teen bit his bottom lip, lowering his head as he struggled to stifle his emotions. Even though he knew he could be whoever he wanted in front of Akira, that didn’t mean he liked to cry in front of him any more than he ever did.

 

“Taka…” Akira murmured, reaching up to cup the younger teen’s cheeks. “Don’t worry, hey? We’ll still see each other every day at school and I promise I’ll come over every single weekend. It’s not like we’re breaking up or anything.” Akira stroked his thumbs over Takanori’s cheeks, feeling so sorry for his cute little boyfriend. Whether Takanori admitted it or not, he had become rather dependant on Akira.

 

“Yeah, but…what if I can’t sleep at night? And who’s gonna wake you up when you over sleep before school? Who’s gonna bleach your roots? Who’ll suck my dick when I’m horny?” Akira snorted a little at that one. “And who’s gonna make you breakfast and make sure you don’t burn the house down?” Takanori pouted.

 

“I think I have a solution.”

 

Both Takanori and Akira’s heads snapped towards the door to see Yutaka standing there, leaning against the frame with his arms folded over his chest, that same kind smile pulling at his lips. Takanori had to admit…he kind of liked that smile. Yutaka seemed to be the kind of person who could make anyone feel at ease. He was a genuine person.

 

“If Akira’s mum is happy with it and if you both agree to get part time jobs…Akira can live here.” Yutaka smiled kindly, watched as the shock filtered over both of the boy’s faces.

 

“Are you serious?!” Takanori leapt up off the bed, wide eyes staring Yutaka down. At his brother’s nod, Takanori practically flew across the room, swinging him arms around Yutaka’s neck and hugging him tightly. “Thank you, Yutaka. Thank you so much!” Takanori blabbered.

 

After having attacked his brother with love, Takanori turned back to Akira, a large grin on his face as he walked back to the elder blond, letting himself be swept up into the taller boy’s arms. Yutaka stepped out of the room just in time to let Akira and Takanori indulge in a heavy, passionate kiss.

 

It was time to turn a new page for all of them.

 

*          *          *

 

The following month flew by. Takanori got a job at the music store on the way home from school; it was the perfect job for him, really. He had the knowledge, he had the talent and the old man who worked there, Jiro, was more than happy to have him. Akira, on the other hand, started working in a pet store. Takanori didn’t know why he’d chosen a pet store, of all places, but the older blond seemed to enjoy it.

 

Akira’s mother had agreed to let him move out, with the promise that he would come for dinner once a week. Of course, that was more than good enough for the blond third year and he had moved his things out of his room and into Takanori’s room at Yutaka’s house by the next day. For the first time in forever it felt like everything was going just right.

 

Yutaka and Takanori started to get on a lot better as well. Once Takanori opened himself up and let someone besides Akira in he and his brother were able to start forming a bond. As expected, Yutaka was exactly the dork he appeared to be and he was an amazing cook as well. He made a bento for Akira and Takanori every morning before he left for work and he always made sure they were both happy. He was a kind soul.

 

Takanori had started to sit with Akira and his friends at school as well, he found it so much easier to smile and laugh around other people now that he was genuinely happy and he didn’t feel like he needed to hide himself. He also now knew that he could still be himself and not have to conform to what everyone else was. Takanori was confident enough to know that he was his own person.

 

One particular morning, the blond couple walked into school hand in hand as usual, heading over to Akira’s friends. But Takanori was rather taken aback when he spotted a familiar raven haired boy. As he and Akira drew nearer the small blond locked eyes with Aoi and the raven haired boy actually smiled at him and Takanori smiled back.

 

“Good to see you here, Aoi,” Akira said as he sat down on the bench, pulling Takanori down onto his lap which made the little blond groan; Akira had really done a number on his arse the night before.

 

Aoi nodded, leaning into Kouyou’s side, the honey blond having draped his arm over Aoi’s shoulders. “You too, Akira.” Takanori looked between the two, obviously not having caught up on how exactly they knew each other. Though…he vaguely remembered the day that Akira had seen him lose his shit in the music room; the first day things started to change for them. It had been Aoi who’d lead Akira to the music room. Had that sneaky raven been hoping for this to happen all along? But how could he have possibly known this would work out?

 

“I see Kouyou finally grew some balls,” Takanori jabbed, earning himself a little glare from the honey blond. But he merely rolled his eyes a moment later before he leaned in and kissed Aoi’s temple.

 

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he mused, causing Aoi to glance at him and smile.

 

Akira gave Takanori’s waist a little squeeze, telling him to play nice and the little blond just huffed, pouting his lips a little. No matter how many friends he made he would always have that slightly icy side to him, that sharpness; but it was just part of his personality, he no longer meant any harm by it.

 

“Hey, we should go on a double date this weekend,” Akira piped up.

 

Takanori groaned loudly, lolling his head back against Akira’s shoulder. “Are you fucking serious? You are the biggest fucking dork.”

 

“Yeah, but you love it~” Akira mused, kissing Takanori’s cheek.

 

“Mm…yeah, I do.” Takanori turned and kissed Akira, much to the distress of the blond’s straight friends that were hanging around. But he didn’t care. He was happy and things were finally _just right_. “Oh hey, I finally figured out how to finish my song.” Takanori pulled out his notebook, which he had started to share with Akira a little more now. He flipped open to the page and handed the book to boyfriend. “It’s called _Miseinen_.”

 

 _I was frantically looking for something_  
It's okay to stumble, so go forward  
I know it's foolish, I just run on without regret  
The only one I can trust is myself, I didn't need friends  
The fangs I bared at anything and everything  
Sexual stuff in adolescence is delicate and fleeting  
I want to be strong, give me the strength to live on my own  
Honestly, I was just scared of betrayal  
I knew that nothing would change if I kept running away  
But I couldn't change myself.  
The loneliness I prided myself on  
Was a pair of wings to escape to my worthless dreams  
The self-assertion I prided myself on called "RIOT"  
There was no freedom, nothing beyond this light.  
Teenage Bluely Days  
I was drowning in each rough new day  
Before I knew it I was shouldering such loneliness  
It was hard. To be honest,  
I really didn't want to be on my own.

 _Since always pretending to be strong makes one forget one's true face_  
It's important to occasionally loosen up and rely on others  
Hurt... when you want to cry, face the great big sky  
And scream out in a loud voice  
That you want to forget yourself, so you can keep being who you are.  
The encouraging voices of my father, my mother, and my friends  
Spurred on, even one so weak as myself, they gave me the light  
The loneliness and pain of my youth that I prided myself on  
Were a pair of wings to escape to my worthless dreams  
If there's freedom to be had in that clear blue sky  
I wouldn't care if these wings I'm so proud of were torn off  
I began running, frantically aiming for the sky  
I spread my wings and flew away, and the spot where I fell  
Was 'Freedom'  
With a wonderful family, and wonderful friends  
These were the best days of my life, if I'm reborn  
Let's meet again...


End file.
